Just a Friend
by ScribeofArda
Summary: A young boy, dreaming of being a soldier, makes a shocking discovery when he finds an elf, unconscious, in the woods. The strange elf's condition only worsens when they bring him home, and then men come knocking at their door. And why is the elf calling out for Estel?
1. Chapter 1

Just a Friend

_Wow, I am sorry that it has been so long since a longer multi-chaptered story! I have been busy with revision, and also don't want to publish everything I have saved too quickly, because it does take me a long time to write, edit and finalise these longer stories. I would rather publish gradually, but most of the time, rather than take massive gaps to finish writing (as I write I am also working on another multi-chapter fic, that will be coming next)_

_I'm not really sure where this story came from, but I just decided to write it when I was procrastinating (again). This is set a few years or so after the War of the Ring, and features some OCs, but nobody who I will continue to use in other fanfics. (probably)_

_Disclaimer: When I tried to sue P.J. for copyright infringement, I was told by the very nice men in suits that I couldn't. So I don't own any of it._

The rickety door to the farmhouse swung open with a bang. A shout came from inside.

"Telan, be careful! Slam that door any harder and it will break."

Telan sighed. "Yes, Ma," he said. He ran his hand through his lanky brown hair and whistled softly as he gathered the tools from where they sat next to the door.

His mother, Alya, appeared in the doorway. "Honestly," she said, a bowl of dough in her arms. "Why do all men feel the need to slam doors? Your father does it every time he comes home from the fields."

Telan grinned. "I don't know, Ma, but I will try not to." He picked up an axe. "How much firewood do you want?"

"As much as you and Cat can carry," replied Alya.

Telan groaned. "Why do I have to take her?" he asked. "She just runs off all the time, and never listens to me."

"She is six, Telan," replied his mother. "She doesn't listen to anyone. Get her to collect kindling, we need more. Now be careful in those woods. You're too far away from the house for me to hear if anything goes wrong. And it rained last night, so be careful you don't slip when collecting and chopping those logs."

Telan cut her off. "Ma, I'm thirteen now," he said. "I can look after myself."

Alya kissed him on the cheek before he could dart away. "You are my son," she said softly. "I will always worry a bit about you."

"Do you worry about Da as well?" asked Telan cheekily.

Alya swatted at him with her spoon. "Mind that tongue, Telan! Now get going. The next few nights might get cold, and we will need the wood if it does."

"Aye Ma," replied Telan. Swinging the axe over his shoulder, he peered into the small cottage. "You coming, Cat?"

A small head peeped around the door. "I is coming, Tel," squealed a small voice. A young girl scampered out of the house. "Is we going into the woods?"

"Stop talking like that," said Telan, but he ruffled her hair as she bounded past him. She was his younger sister, named Cathleen at birth. "Cat, wait up!" he called as he strode out down the rutted track towards the woods. The other way was the fields, where his Da and some others worked, but the land before the woods was too stony to farm properly, so was mainly left alone.

Their cottage sat on the very edge of the town. It was small, and the roof was leaking a bit, but it was home. The town was small for a town, but had an inn that was sometimes used by travellers. Telan had once snuck into town to see the men dressed in dark greens and browns sitting quietly at one of the tables in the inn. He had been thrilled- the insignia of their chests showed them as Gondorian rangers. But before he could get any closer his father had appeared and pulled him away. Apparently the town was not a place for young boys on their own.

Telan whistled a nameless tune as he and Cat reached the shade of the woods. They were large enough to provide firewood for them, as well as the occasional game that Da managed to shoot with his crossbow, the only weapon he had, besides his old sword that now was used for the fire. His father had been a soldier a while ago, a guard left at Minas Tirith when the army marched to the Black Gate. Once the War had ended, seven years ago, they had come here to find a quieter life.

Telan reached the tree stump that he used to split logs and put down the axe. Cat had already disappeared, but he was not overly worried. These woods were perfectly safe now the King had come to Gondor two years ago. He had gotten rid of the orcs and the creeping men, and things were more or less peaceful.

Telan longed to see the White City again. He desperately wanted to become a soldier, a ranger, and learn to use a sword. But every time he asked his father to teach him, Da got a sad look in his eyes and turned away. Telan had learnt to stop asking after a while.

Telan wandered around looking for fallen branches. He was not supposed to take living wood, for these woods did not belong to him or his family. Anyway, green wood does not burn. He picked up a branch and swung it, imagining it was a sword, and he was fighting in the War against all the orcs.

He suddenly realised that he hadn't asked Cat to collect kindling. Telan put the branch down. "Cat!" he cried out. "Cat, little kitten, where are you?"

There was silence, and Telan cursed under his breath. He would have to collect the kindling himself, he thought. He went back to splitting logs, going to find fallen branches, and then splitting more wood.

The axe was getting heavy in his hands and his brow was beaded with sweat when he finally had enough wood. Taking some of the string he had brought, he tied the logs in a bundle and then dumped them in a sack he could haul back to the cottage. He looked around. Cat was still somewhere else, and he sighed. She was a handful sometimes.

"Cat!" he called out, striding out into the woods. Cat wouldn't get lost; she had an uncanny sense of direction and knew where the tree stump was, where Telan would be. Telan felt a little flicker of worry stir in him, and he moved further into the woods. "Cat? Cat, where are you?"

"Cat?" Telan started to move quicker through the woods. "Cat, if you're messing about, come here right now!"

"Cathleen!" Telan was starting to panic now. "You come here right now! Please, Cat, where are you?"

There was a rustle in the bushes and Telan turned in time to see his little sister stumble out, breathless. He swept her up in his arms. "Where were you, Cat?" he asked fiercely. "I was worried!"

"Telan, you have to see what I've found! Quickly!"

Telan groaned. No doubt his little sister had been distracted by some new fascination. The last one had been a spider's web. It had been huge, but it had still only been a web. "Alright then," he said. "But quickly, and then we have to gather kindling and go home."

He placed Cat back down on the grass and she turned and ran off. Telan followed her, sighing. They wove through undergrowth, deeper into the woods. Cat suddenly disappeared from in front of him, and Telan ground his teeth. "Cat, where are you?"

"Come this way!" said Cat, suddenly appearing from the undergrowth. She grabbed Telan's hand, and pulled her older brother through the bushes, into a small, well hidden clearing.

Telan stopped dead. "Cat…" he said softly. "What have you found?"

_Who_ have you found would be more apt, he thought. A body was lying in the clearing, face down. A cloak covered them, and there were marks behind them, as if he had stumbled and fallen down in the mud. A sudden horror filled Telan. Was the person…?

No, he thought, for he saw a slight movement from the figure, the ever so faint rise and fall of their back as they breathed.

"Cat get back," he said quietly. Cat was standing close to the stranger, looking down with curiosity. Telan moved forwards and pulled her back. He crouched down in front of her.

"Cat, you listen to me, you listen carefully." Something in his voice made Cat focus completely on him, and Telan gulped.

"Cat, I need you to run as fast as you can back to the house. Get Ma; tell her that there is someone hurt in the woods. Tell her to come straight here, bring nobody. Especially nobody from the town." Telan knew that a stranger injured in the woods would not be taken too kindly in the town.

"You understand, Cat?" asked Telan. "You get Ma. Tell her there is someone hurt in the woods, and that I am still here. Lead her back to me. You understand?"

Cat nodded, a sudden fearful look in her eyes. Telan kissed the top of her head. "Go!"

She turned and ran through the bushes. Telan watched until he could no longer see her, before turning back to the person lying in the mud.

He crept forwards, wishing he had his axe. Reaching out carefully, he shook the person's shoulder. There was no response, and their face was turned away from him, so he couldn't see if they were awake or not. Taking a deep breath, he heaved at the body and managed to roll it over onto their back.

Telan frowned, moving the long blond hair away from the stranger's face. He checked their pulse, like he had seen his Ma do: two fingers under the jaw. It was fast and thready, but at least it was there. He looked over the rest of the body. It was a man, and he was in bad shape, not least because he was unconscious. Sweat was beaded on his brow and underneath the mud, red blossomed on his shoulder. Telan gingerly touched it; his hand came away sticky with blood.

He cursed under his breath, and tried to see if he was wounded anywhere else. He knew from what his Ma had told him that head wounds were serious, so he checked his head first. It was odd, thought Telan. The stranger was definitely a man, but he had long fine blond hair, though it was covered in mud. He turned the man's head over and gasped. The blond hair had fallen back, revealing a pointed ear.

_To Be Continued..._

_It would be suspenseful, but I think we all know who the elf is!_

_Next chapter will not be up tomorrow, so I have more time to write my current working fanfic, so I can publish that sooner (if that made any sense). Next chapter will be up the day after tomorrow (which is a Sunday, for me)._


	2. Chapter 2

Just a Friend- Chapter 2

_Next chapter coming up! Thanks to everyone who is reading and following this. Reviews make me very happy indeed, so the more reviews the better!_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

Telan looked up at the sound of running feet, and adjusted his grip on the branch that he had, just in case. He heard a piping voice from nearby.

"We're nearly there, Mama! Just a bit further!"

Telan sighed with relief. "Ma!" he cried out. "Over here!"

Alya came in through the bushes to find Telan crouched over a limp figure on the ground. She went to her knees beside him. "Is he hurt?"

"Aye," said Telan, pointing at his shoulder, "but I think it's worse than that. He doesn't look good, Ma."

"He?" asked Alya, looking at the long blond hair.

"Ma, he's an elf." Telan turned his head and showed her the pointed ear. Cat, ever curious, got in closer to get a better look.

"Stay back Cat," said Alya. "Just in case." She checked the elf's pulse and breathing. "He's definitely sick" she murmured. She pulled back the tunic to expose the wound: an ugly gash in his shoulder. "We need to get him back home quickly."

Behind them, Cat sucked in a breath. Telan picked her up as Alya slung the elf's body over her shoulders. "Ma, ain't he heavy?"

Alya shook her head. "I don't know why, but he ain't," she said. "We need to get back." She began to walk back towards the edge of the wood. The elf's head lolled sickeningly as she walked, and Cat sobbed into Telan's shoulder.

"It's alright kitten," said Telan soothingly. "It's alright. He's gonna be just fine, and then you can meet an elf! Won't that be great, kitten?"

Cat nodded. They reached the tree stump with the bag of logs, and Telan picked them up, slinging the bag over his back. Whatever was going to happen with this elf, they still needed firewood.

0-o-0-o-0

When Telan came through the door, Alya had already placed the elf on a low bed in the room. Telan lowered Cat to the floor. "Go play with your dolls," he said, already starting forwards towards the bed.

Cat whimpered, and Telan paused. He crouched down to look at her. "It's ok, little kitten. Just go into the other room and play with your dolls. Ma knows what she is doing." Alya had been an apprentice healer in Minas Tirith, and knew enough to look after the elf. At least, Telan hoped she did.

He got to his feet and made his way to where Alya was stripping the elf of his sodden bloody clothes. "Can I do anything, Ma?" he asked tentatively. In the poor light of the cottage, the elf looked even worse. As Alya pulled his tunic over his head and away from the gash in his shoulder, he moaned slightly, and twisted.

"Get my box from under the sink," said Alya, dumping the muddy tunic by the fire. She looked at the gash. "Boil some water, Telan, and then grab some of your father's old clothes."

Telan nodded and did as she asked. When he came back with a pile of clothes and the boiled water in a deep bowl, Alya had already begun to wipe the mud and blood away from the elf's shoulder. His skin was pale, beaded with sweat. Alya dipped the cloth in the boiled water and washed the wound. She did it gently, but it still elicited a moan from the unconscious form in the bed.

"Something is wrong," said Alya. "Even for a man, this wound is not bad enough to warrant a fever and unconsciousness. If it is poison, then I don't know what to do."

"Shall I go into town, Ma?" asked Telan, handing over his clothes. Alya put some herbs over the wound and bandaged it with scraps of linen.

"No, I don't want this news spreading," she said quietly. "Some of those men in town would come knocking if they knew an elf was lying in our cottage. We just have to hope he will get better. Boil more water, please."

Telan nodded and filled the kettle from the bucket in the corner. "Will he get better, Ma?"

"I don't know," replied Alya. She crushed a few herbs and put them in the kettle before looking down at the elf. He face was worried. "I just don't know, Telan. But you have to keep this quiet. No going into town before this ends, one way or another."

Telan nodded. "I'm sure it'll be alright, Ma," he said. "He's an elf, right? It's like all the stories about the War. There was an elf there, says the tales, and the tales say how he couldn't be hurt, like the King. So this elf will be alright."

Alya shook her head with a sigh. "Those tales are tales, Telan," she said. She pulled the loose tunic over the elf's head. "Get a bowl of water, as cold as possible," she told him. "He needs to be kept cool."

Telan nodded and dipped a bowl in the bucket of water in the corner. One day, he thought, as he handed the bowl to his mother, he would go back to Minas Tirith and he would become a soldier. He would learn to use a sword and he would protect the King. It was all he really wanted to do.

Alya took another scrap of linen and dipped it in the water. She placed it over the elf's forehead, and the elf moaned and twisted on the bed. Taking the kettle off the hearth, she poured it into a cup and let it cool. "Sit him up, Telan, just a bit. He needs to drink this."

Telan slid his hands under the elf's head and shoulders and pulled him up slightly. The elf grimaced and his lips moved. Telan made a face. "Sorry," he murmured to the elf. Alya held the cup of water laced with herbs to the elf's lips, and slowly he drank, the water trickling down his throat. Telan carefully set him back down on the bed.

"What was that, Ma?"

"Something to stop the fever, hopefully," replied Alya. She pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. "Your father should be home soon," she said, adjusting the cloth on the elf's brow. She frowned as she felt his hot skin.

The elf twisted again, and his lips moved slightly. Alya leaned in, listening, and Telan couldn't help getting closer. "What is he saying, Ma?"

"Nothing in our tongue," said Alya, sitting back. "It was only a few words."

"Did he say his name?" The elf was still nameless, and Telan was curious as to who it was.

"Nay," said Alya. "The fever has him; he can't think, nor wake up properly. He just repeated one word."

"What was it, Ma?"

Alya frowned. "It sounded like Estel," she said. "Aye. Estel."

0-o-0-o-0

The door swung open and Alya looked up from where she was changing the elf's bandages. In the past few hours the elf had gotten more restless, tossing and turning on the bed.

"You're late," she said teasingly.

"Never mind late," said the man, walking over to where Alya sat. "Who is this? Why is he in our house?"

"It's an elf, Da," said Telan from where he was stacking logs in the corner. "Cat found him in the woods. He's hurt."

"Hurt?" asked his father. "Why did you bring him back here? If those men in the town find out…"

"We couldn't leave him, Henric," said Alya calmly.

"Aye, I know," said Henric, rubbing his jaw. "But we might get men knocking on our door if he stays too long. What's wrong with him, anyway?"

"His shoulder is injured," said Telan. "And he has a fever. It keeps rising." The elf on the bed twisted again, his lips whispering a word.

"What is he saying?" asked Henric. "His name?"

Alya shook her head. "It's another tongue," she replied. "His own, I guess. He mainly repeats a word, though. It sounds like a name, but I don't think it's his own."

"Aye, and what name is this?"

"Estel," said Telan. "Or something similar. It sounds like it's a friend of his, the way he keeps trying to call out to them."

"Aye, well let's hope his friend comes soon," said Henric. "Can you help him, love?"

Alya shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "I can do my best, but whatever ails him is far beyond the little skill I have."

"Is the elf gonna die?" piped a small voice from the other room of the cottage. Telan turned to see Cat peeping around the door.

Henric came over to her and picked her up. "Hush kitten," he said soothingly. "Ma's gonna do her best."

"He won't die," said Telan. "He's an elf, right? You know the elves in stories don't die."

Henric sighed, but said nothing and put Cat back down to the floor. "A quick supper," he said. "Is that soup over the fire?"

Alya nodded, getting up and pulling the pot off the fire with a thick towel. "Onion soup. There's a bit of cured ham left over, but I thought we'd save it." Henric nodded and ladled the soup out into rough earthen bowls.

"Here," he said, passing a bowl to Telan. "More you eat, stronger you get." Telan grinned and tore a hunk of bread from the loaf sitting on the small table. He dunked it in the soup.

"Will there be any left?" he asked around a mouthful of soupy bread.

"Chew first then talk," replied Alya. "But I want to keep some, see if I can't get the elf to drink a bit."

"Do elves like soup?" asked Telan.

"It's not about whether he likes it or not, it's about whether it will keep him alive, son," said Henric. "But your Ma is right." He took another hunk of bread and dipped it in his soup. "Chew your food before talking."

Telan grumbled and finished his soup quickly. "Here Cat," he said, handing her the heel of his bread. "I've run out of soup."

Cat took it. "Fanks Telan," she said as she crammed it in her mouth. Crumbs sprayed everywhere.

Henric laughed. "You two need to go to sleep," he said. "Take the mattress, me and your Ma may stay up late." Alya was already sitting beside the elf again, rewetting the cloth on his brow.

Telan nodded. "Come on Cat." In the next room he helped her change into her nightshift and then pulled back the blankets on the small mattress. Cat climbed in.

"Aren't you sleeping too?" she asked.

"Aye, soon," said Telan, "but not right now." He sat down on the mattress next to Cat. "Do you want a story?"

Cat shook her head. "A song."

Telan heard the elf moan slightly in the other room. "A song then." He thought for a while, before picking one. "One song, and then you go to sleep, alright?"

Cat nodded. Her eyes were already sliding shut, and she nestled up against Telan. He smiled and stroked her hair gently.

_"The Road goes ever on and on," _he sang softly.

_Out from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_Let others follow it who can!_

_Let them a journey new begin,_

_But I at last with weary feet_

_Will turn towards the lighted inn,_

_My evening-rest and sleep to meet."_

_To Be Continued..._

_Next chapter will be up in two days- a Tuesday for me. And I have written about two chapters, so far, on the fanfic I am working on now, so it's going well!_


	3. Chapter 3

Just a Friend- Chapter 3

_Hi there! I only realised after someone pointed it out in reviewing that the previous chapter was pretty much all dialogue- so much for my editing skills! Sorry about that- have made some changes to this chapter and will be going through yet again to check. Just gotten back into exams after a weeks holiday, so my brain is slightly scattered._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

By the time he had finished Cat had started to fall asleep. Telan slipped from the mattress and was about to change when he heard hushed voices from the other room. He crept to the door and watched silently.

Alya was sitting by the elf again, who was twisting in the bed. She adjusted the cloth on his forehead and sighed. Henric was sitting in the other chair opposite the fire. Eventually he coughed.

Alya looked up. "I know what you are going to say, and the answer is I don't know."

Henric frowned. "You don't know if he will die or not."

"I don't know what is wrong with him," said Alya softly. "There is a wound, but it is small. If there is poison, it is far beyond my skills. I can treat the fever, keep giving him water and herbs, and that might be enough, but I don't know."

Henric sighed. "What are we meant to do then? He is an elf. By the looks of his clothing," he said, pointing at the clothes, now washed and drying over the fire, "he is more than just an elf. That tunic is fancy."

"There were elves in Minas Tirith in the War," said Alya slowly. "The Queen herself is an elf. Maybe if we sent a message…"

"Aye, and have half the town down on us," said Henric. "The only way we could send a message would be through the town, and then if they found out… We would have unwanted visitors knocking at our door. Those men from the town will blame anything but themselves for things that are their own fault. Elves especially. You heard them muttering when the news came of the Queen in Gondor." He sighed and shook his head. "Some people just don't need a reason to be cruel."

Alya sighed. "I know," she murmured. "I will do my best, but…"

"All you can do is your best," said Henric kindly. He stood up and made his way to Alya. Stooping, he kissed her softly on the head. "We can't do anything else."

He moved towards the door and Telan shrank back, quietly making his way back to the mattress. He slid the blanket back and lay down, but for a long time sleep didn't come. From time to time the elf would whisper for Estel again, or else twist and moan as his fever rose. The hushed voices of Alya and Henric occasionally made themselves heard.

Telan found eventually that he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and they slid shut. He fell into sleep and dreamed of elves and Minas Tirith.

0-o-0-o-0

Telan woke up to a thumping noise. He rolled over and slid off the mattress onto the cold hard floor of the cottage. He groaned and opened his eyes.

It was still dark, but getting lighter. He knew the sun would rise soon enough. The thumping noise continued and he pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his eyes. In the other room he could hear his mother and father getting up. He didn't know if they had slept at all.

Telan made his way into the other room. "Who is it?" he murmured, still half asleep.

Henric shushed him, and made his way to the door. Alya was standing up in front of the bed where the elf lay, her face pale. Telan felt a flicker of worry stir within him.

Henric cracked open the door slightly. Outside the wind was blowing fiercely. Telan watched as Henric looked outside. "Can I help?" he asked gruffly.

"I am looking for an elf," said a low rough voice. Telan edged around until he could see out of the crack in the door. A cloaked man stood at the door of their cottage. He was tall, taller than Henric, and his face was shadowed, though Telan could just make out the gleam of grey eyes under the hood.

"An elf?" said Henric, feigning surprise. At his words Telan glanced around at the bed where the elf lay. Alya was standing in front of it, trying to shield the elf as best she could, just in case the door swung open.

Telan wasn't sure what to think. Surely the man could help? He wasn't one of the men from the town that he had seen before. But then again, Telan hardly knew anyone in the town. A sudden worry came over him and he found himself wishing that the elf would remain silent, would not try and call out for Estel whilst this man was at the door.

"There hasn't been an elf in these parts for years," said Henric. "We certainly haven't seen one."

"Are you sure?" The man delved into a pocket and produced a silver coin. "Will this help your memory?" To Telan's ears, his voice sounded almost pleading, and Telan became confused again. He half found himself wishing now the elf would cry out, only if it meant that things would be taken out of their hands, one way or another. But as soon as he thought that he felt guilty and stopped, concentrating hard on the man at the door instead.

"I won't take your coin," said Henric. "There has been no elf around here that I know of."

The man's shoulders seemed to slump slightly. "Thank you," he said softly. "Is there anywhere nearby to stay? I have come a long way and am weary."

Henric hesitated. "There's an inn in the town," he said. "Might be you can get a room there."

"I am grateful." The man turned to go, his cloak flapping around him. Telan caught a glimpse of a long sword in a sheath by his side, before his father shut the door and bolted it.

"That was close," he said, turning back to Alya. "He didn't look like one of those men from the town, but if he asks around, those men might come knocking."

"He had a sword, Da, didn't you see?" asked Telan. "And a horse behind him." He made to go and look out of the door again, to see if the man was still in sight, but Henric shook his head and he sat down instead.

"Aye, I saw," said Henric, sighing and sitting down by the fire. He stoked it with the end of his old sword. "He was a peculiar man, that's for sure. Haven't seen the likes of him around here before."

"Do you think he was looking for him?" asked Alya, now seated beside the elf. She rewetted the cloth on his forehead.

"Aye, might be," said Henric. "But it's too late to ask now. He was a strange man, and I was not going to tell him we had an elf in our home. Who knows why he is looking for an elf. It can't be a good reason."

"What do you mean, Da?" asked Telan. "Maybe he's just searching for the elf to take him home."

"Aye, and maybe he's just going to-" Henric stopped abruptly and shook his head. "Best we deal with the elf on our own. I don't want to attract any men here. That man is gone now, and he ain't coming back." He shifted closer to the fire. "You need more hot water, love?"

"Aye," said Alya. "Put these herbs in it." She took a handful from a small box by the bed and passed them over. "Hopefully they will bring the fever down."

As she turned back to the elf, he twisted in the bed, restless and feverish. "Estel," he murmured. "Estel, _mellon-nin_. Estel!"

Telan jumped at the cry and Alya hurried to try and soothe the elf. He moaned again and tossed his head to one side, before falling silent. Alya sighed.

"Is he getting worse, Ma?" asked Telan.

"Aye," murmured Alya. "He is."

0-o-0-o-0

Telan groaned as he rolled his shoulders to try and rid them of the aches. Due to his father's insistence that they keep the elf as secret as possible, he had gone and worked in the fields with Henric. It had been a long day, and tedious, and Telan was looking forwards to getting home.

At least he was until he remembered the elf. He wondered how he was, whether he had woken, or was getting worse. He turned to his father as they walked down the path.

"Da, do you think the elf is awake?" he asked hesitantly.

"Shush Telan!" said Henric, glancing around them. "The land has ears, son. You never know who is listening."

"Sorry Da," said Telan.

Henric chuckled and ruffled his hair. "I forget sometimes that you are just a boy. There is no fighting to make you grow up as fast as I had to." He grinned. "Now let's get home quickly. It'll be dark soon."

Telan nodded, and the two of them quickened their pace as they neared the cottage. Henric pulled open the door. "Love?" he asked, walking into the house.

Alya was sat again by the bed where the elf lay. One look at him confirmed Telan's worries. The elf was deathly pale, sweat covering his face and making his clothes stick to him. As Telan watched he moaned and writhed on the bed.

Alya sighed and rewetted the cloth over his forehead. She picked up a cup and tried to get him to drink.

"He's worse, ain't he?" asked Henric.

"Aye," said Alya shortly. Henric sighed.

"How long do you think?"

"A few days, maybe. He is burning up, and his shoulder has turned black where the wound was." Alya gently touched the bandages, easing them back over the elf's shoulder as she looked at the wound. It was small, a gash only, yet turning black. Telan's nose wrinkled at the sight of it.

"Poison?"

"Almost definitely." Alya sighed. "Don't worry. It looks like the kind of orc poison that I used to see in Minas Tirith. It won't hurt any of us."

Henric frowned. "Hasn't been any sign of that man who came last night?"

"None at all," said Alya with a small smile. "And nobody from town either." She gently rubbed some sort of salve onto the elf's shoulder, and even the lightest touch of her fingers made him twist away from her, a faint moan escaping his lips.

"Good," Henric grunted. He sighed. "It's getting late. Dinner?"

"The leftover ham is now a stew," said Alya. "And there's a bit of bread left."

Telan hauled the pot out the fire and dumped it on the table. The smell wafted out and Cat stuck her head around the door. "Food?" she asked hopefully.

"Aye," said Telan with a grin. "Ma, do you want any for the elf?"

Alya shook her head. "You boys finish it. I don't think the elf will be able to eat stew." She watched her children. Somehow she doubted that they had grasped the seriousness of the situation that they had right now. She looked up at Henric, and saw her own doubts reflected in his eyes.

Cat, of course, wouldn't really understand any of it. She was only six. To her, elves were a fairy tale told before bed. Telan was older, but Alya remembered her brothers at that age, and Telan was the same, not quite old enough to understand. Or if he was old enough, thought Alya with a sigh, then he was trying not to understand. Sometimes it was easier that way.

"Besides," said Cat, not noticing Alya's lapse of attention. "He's an elf. He doesn't eat meat."

"Oh really?" asked Telan. "Says who?"

Cat pouted. "None of the stories say they do," she said.

"Aye, but none of the stories tell you half the stuff heroes get up to. Do you think heroes don't have to-?"

"Telan!" Alya looked over at him sharply, now fully back in the room. She looked up at Henric again, who shook his head slightly with a sigh, before turning her gaze back to the elf. She rewetted the cloth on his forehead, catching a bead of sweat as it rolled down his temple.

"Sorry Ma." Telan grinned and passed a bowl of stew to Cat. "There you go kitten. More you eat, bigger you grow."

Cat made a face at Telan, but proceeded to wolf down the stew anyway. The wind picked up outside and the shutters on the window rattled. The elf moaned in his feverish sleep.

_To Be Continued..._

_Sorry if the ending is a bit abrupt, but in order to get it worked out well next chapter, I had to cut it off there._

_Next one will be up in two days- a Thursday for me. Reviewing would really make me very happy!_


	4. Chapter 4

Just a Friend- Chapter 4

_Next chapter! I would really love it if you review- anything you have to say about it, whether it be positive or constructive criticism. I will end up feeding any flames to my pet Balrog :)_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1._

Henric glanced up as a gentle pitter-patter announced the arrival of rain. "Telan, grab some pots. The roof might start leaking again." Telan put down his stew and pulled the pots out to the usual places. The rain got heavier. Soon there were drops falling into the pots, going _plink_ each time.

It was dark outside by the time Telan had scrubbed the pan of soup clean with a hunk of bread. The fire flickered as another gust of wind hit the house, and the rain drummed on the roof. Henric sighed.

"It looks like a wet winter," he murmured.

Alya didn't answer. She was busy with the elf, trying to coax more water down his throat. The wind howled again, and Telan scooped Cat up in his arms. "Are you tired, kitten?" he asked gently. "Maybe you should go to sleep."

Cat nodded sleepily, and Telan turned to go into the other room when there came a hammering on the door.

"Open up!"

Henric got to his feet. "Who is it?" he called, nearing the door.

"Old man, open the door or we break it down." Henric's face became pale as he heard the voices.

"Open up, old man, open up!"

"Why?" shouted back Henric. He looked back at Telan, who had put Cat down on the floor and was now standing in front of her. "My sword," he whispered.

Telan nodded and retrieved the sword from the fireside as the men outside thumped on the door again. It shook in his hinges, and then the old rusted bolt gave way and it flung open.

Three men were silhouetted in the doorway, the rain pouring from their hoods. The one in front stepped forwards into the house. "So it is true," he said with a grin. "You do have an elf."

"See, I told you!" said one of the other men, starting forwards. The first man put out a hand and he stopped abruptly.

"Quiet," he growled to the two other men. He tossed back his hood and grinned. His face was sallow, his hair tangled around his face. A scar ran down his cheek and across his lip. "Who is this elf then, old man?"

"Get out of my house" said Henric quietly. He took the sword from Telan, who was standing frozen by the fire. "Get out."

The man laughed. "Look at that, boys, he has a sword." He flipped his cloak aside. "What a pity. So do we."

In an instant three more swords were drawn, and the man pointed his sword straight at Henric. Alya gasped and made to move forwards, but the sword swung towards her and she stopped.

"Stay still women," growled the man. "I wouldn't want to see you…spoiled."

Alya's face went pale, but she drew herself up and grabbed hold of Cat and Telan, pulling them back behind her. Cat went willingly, but Telan struggled. "No!" he said.

The man laughed. "The boy thinks he is brave," he drawled. "Give us the elf, old man, or we shall see just how brave he is."

Telan stumbled back as Henric moved in front of him. "I know what you would do with the elf" he said quietly. "I know your kind. He has done nothing to you. Please, just leave us in peace."

"We will," said the man, "but only if we get the elf."

"Why?" asked Henric, his voice tense. "What has he ever done to you?"

The scarred man shook his head. "You don't realise, do you?" he said. "Elves are wicked, they are sorcerers. Everyone has heard stories of the Golden Wood. If you go in there, you never come out." His face hardened. "Besides, I used to live on the edges of Mirkwood. One day we were attacked." His face twisted in brief rage, before he brought himself under control.

"Where were those elves when my parents were killed?" he asked. His voice wasn't loud, but there was an edge to it like stone. "Where were those godforsaken elves when my home burnt? They didn't help. They are wicked. They do not deserve to live. Give the elf to us, and we will do what he deserves to him."

"I am sorry for you," said Henric, and he was slightly, an edge of bitter pity in his voice. "But I will not let you take him. He is injured, poisoned. He needs help."

"Help?" asked the man, chuckling. "I do not think so, old man." He stepped forwards and the two men either side of him came to his sides. "If you do not give him up, we will take him by force."

Telan gulped and took a trembling step back. His leg collided with the edge of the bed where the elf lay and he winced. Cat was shaking where she stood, and Alya had moved to position herself in front of Cat and the elf.

The man stepped forwards, his sword swinging lazily. The flames from the fire glinted off its edge. "I mean it, old man."

Henric tightened his grip on his own sword. "You can't take him."

"Suit yourself." The man raised his sword and the muscles in his arm tensed, readying to swing it. Henric clutched his sword even harder, his knuckles white. Telan held his breath. The sword swung.

And with the sudden sound of steel grating on steel, it was deflected and spun out of the man's hand. The man found himself being pulled backwards by his hair as a long knife came to his throat. His companions started at the hooded man who had appeared behind them.

"Get out right now," said the hooded man. "Get out and run, and never come back here again."

One of the companions grinned. "Yeah?" he asked. "And who's gonna make me?"

The hooded man suddenly spun around, pulling the first man with him and kicking his legs out from underneath him so he dropped to the floor. One hand went to the sword at his hip and in an instant he had is levelled at the two other men.

"Get out" he growled. His sword came to rest on one of the man's throats, and he pushed ever so slightly. A bead of red blood trickled down the man's neck.

"Get out," he repeated. "Or I will kill you." His eyes flashed dangerously.

The other man made a sudden move to his belt, and in an instant the stranger, without removing the sword from the first man's throat, flicked out his other hand, the one with the knife.

A scream of pain shattered the air as the man clutched his arm. Blood flowed from beneath his hand. "You…You!"

The stranger pressed the sword into the first man's neck. "Go," he said. His voice was soft, but was like steel. "I don't want to kill you, but I will if you don't leave now."

The first man gulped and nodded, and the stranger's sword followed him as he went to his companion and hoisted him up, the blood spattering over him as well. He looked up at the stranger. "We'll go."

"Then run." The hooded man took away his sword and watched as the two men threw open the door of the house and ran into the rain. He watched them go.

Telan saw the man, the first man on the floor, stir and clamber to his knees. A knife was in his hand. "Watch out!" he cried.

The hooded man spun around and seized the man, hauling him up to his feet and slamming him against the wall. A knife appeared in the first man's hand, but the hooded man grabbed his hand and slammed it again and again against the wall, until the bleeding fingers opened and the knife fell to the floor.

The hooded man drew out a second knife, identical to the first one, from his belt and pressed it to the man's throat. A thin line of blood appeared.

"You will never come back here," said the hooded man. "You will never return to this house. You will never try and take anyone, let alone an elf." For a brief moment the hand around the knife clenched it so hard the knuckles turned white.

The man laughed slightly. "And who are you to threaten me so?"

"A man with a sword," answered the hooded man. "A man who is holding a knife to your throat. Be careful."

"Really? As if you know how to use it," said the man. His scar rippled as he talked.

The hooded man seemed to pause, and come away from the other man slightly. The knife moved away from the man's throat, who laughed. "See? I said-"

The knife flashed. The man yelled out in pain. Alya gasped and covered Cat's eyes as the scarred man clutched at his hand . Blood dripped from beneath his fingertips. "My…my fingers." His voice was incredulous as he clutched the nearly severed digits.

"Next time, I will do worse," said the hooded man. He paused, but suddenly the elf on the bed twisted and moaned softly. The hooded man's eyes flew to the elf, and Telan thought he saw a glint of fear in his eyes. "Get out," he said hurriedly to the scarred man, pressing the knife into his throat. "Get out and never come back."

The man grasped his hand tightly to him as the hooded man opened the door and shoved him outside. He watched him run off into the darkness, before sighing and shutting the door, sheathing his weapons. He turned back to Henric.

Henric raised his sword. "You are the man who came to our door this morning, asking about an elf. Who are you?"

"Da, he saved us!" cried Telan, who ran forwards and tugged at his father's arm. "He helped us."

"Your father is right to be wary," said the hooded man, his voice soft. "I…I can't believe I was so close to you. It was out of desperation that I knocked on your door. I was in the inn in town when I heard those men discussing an elf, and a family that had him. I followed them here. I had to."

Henric lowered his sword slightly. "Why?"

The man threw back his hood. His piercing grey eyes glinted in the light from the fire. Behind Alya the elf twisted and a faint whimper escaped his lips. The man moved forwards, his face turning worried, but Henric stopped him.

"How do I know you aren't another of those men?" he asked. "How do I know you won't kill the elf?"

"Please, you don't understand," said the man, his eyes not leaving the elf lying in the bed. "I'm his friend. Just a friend."

Henric's sword lowered again, and the man looked at him. "He will die if I don't help him, and I can't let that happen. Please, I can't. He's like a brother to me." His voice cracked ever so slightly. "He's my friend."

Henric sighed, and put the sword down. "Alright," he said. "Tend to him and you can stay here."

As soon as he said those words the man rushed across the room and fell to his knees beside the bed, flinging his cloak back from his arms. "_Mellon-nin,_" he murmured. "What happened to you?" He tenderly felt his brow, frowning at the heat that was radiating from the elf. "When did you find him?"

"My daughter did," said Alya, who was now standing at the foot of the bed. "And my son. It was yesterday morning."

Cat peeped out from behind her mother. "Is the elf going to die?" she asked in a small voice.

"Not if I can prevent it," said the man. He already had his pack off and was rummaging through it in search of something. Finally he drew a small bag out of his pack. "Can you boil some water?"

"I've tried bringing down his fever," said Alya, but she moved and filled the kettle anyway. "I was an apprentice healer in Minas Tirith. The elf has a cut on his shoulder. It is turning black- I think it is poisoned."

"Aye, it would be," muttered the man, more to himself than anyone else. "You can't just go missing, can you _mellon-nin_, you have to get poisoned as well. Stubborn elf."

Telan watched as the man drew some leaves from his bag and crushed them. A sudden wholesome smell filled the air. "What are those?" he murmured.

The man smiled briefly. "Athelas leaves," he replied. "Though you probably know it as kingsfoil."

"Kingsfoil!" exclaimed Telan. "Like in the stories. The King used it to bring back the Steward and the White Lady, didn't he?"

"Aye, he did," said the man softly. "Yet it is used commonly now." He cast the leaves into a bowl of boiling water that Alya had poured and put it near the bed. For a few minutes the man did nothing, and the rest of the room was silent, watching.

The man himself was watching the elf carefully. After a few minutes he nodded, apparently satisfied, and then began to go to work. Taking out a dagger, he cut away the bandage over the elf's shoulder, grimacing as he pulled it away to reveal the black wound underneath.

Alya watched impassively, before moving away and picking up a bowl and a rag. Someone had to clean the blood off the floor.

"Ai, _mellon-nin_, you have outdone yourself," he murmured. He pulled a strip of linen from his bag and soaked it in the water, before taking it and beginning to run it over the wound. The elf moaned and tried to twist away, but the man held him down with one hand, murmuring soothing words in another language as he cleaned the wound.

The scrap of cloth was dunked again and again in the boiling water as it turned slowly black. As the man pressed down on the wound again, a vile substance started to leak from it. The man mopped it up with the rag, cleaned it and then returned to the wound, pressing down on it to make more of the ooze trickle out. The elf writhed in his feverish sleep, but the man did not stop until bright red blood welled from underneath his hands.

He sighed, and took a needle and thread from his pack. As he began to thread it, Alya joined Henric, who wrapped his arms around her. Telan knelt and picked up Cat. They watched as the man carefully sewed up the wound. Afterwards he chewed up some herbs and then rubbed the paste over the wound, before pulling more linen from his bag and wrapping the elf's shoulder securely. Only then did he stop and sit back with a sigh.

Telan spoke first. "Is he gonna be alright?" he asked.

"I don't know," said the man, studying the elf's face. "Maybe. He has pulled through worse things than this. But then again, half the time it is luck that gets him through." He paused, seemingly lost in thought.

Cat was the one to break him out of his thoughts. "Who are you?" she asked from Telan's arms.

"Cat!" said Telan, but the man had the barest hint of a smile on his face.

"I am Strider," he said. "The elf's name is…Las. Yes, Las."

_To Be Continued..._

_I hope 'Las' isn't too annoyed with his nickname! It was the only thing I could think of using without giving away who he was, and Thranduilion or Greenleaf were both too long to write :)_

_Next chapter will be up in two days- a Saturday for me. Please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

Just a Friend- Chapter 5

_Hi there! More fanfic coming your way- I am finishing the majority of my exams within the next week, so will hopefully have a lot more time to write more fanfiction. Yippee!_

_To all those who have reviewed and to whom I haven't replied- I would love to reply, but unfortunately you are reviewing as guests, not through an account, so I can't message you. So here's a thank you for all of you. :)_

_To Winterfell: again, I wish I could message you and say thanks. To answer your questions: 'Strider' is not king-ing (and yes, that should be a verb) because he knew 'Las' was missing, so was actively searching for him, and gave up on king-ing to try and find him. And as for why Alya isn't using athelas- I think 'Strider' said it was just used commonly so nobody would guess who he really is. Though I think we all know..._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

The cottage was silent, the only sound the pattering of rain on the roof, and the occasional drip of water into the pots on the floor.

Telan found himself unable to look away from the man- Strider, as he now knew him. And Las, the elf. A sudden thought struck him, and he realised he had no idea of knowing whether those were their real names. Strider could have picked any name he wanted.

Yet for some reason, Telan found himself instinctively trusting Strider. There was something different about him, some sort of quality that made him seem so different to the other men, especially the ones who had tried to take the elf- Las, as he must remember now.

Strider checked over Las once more, his face worried. But Telan felt he saw something else in the man's face, maybe something hidden deep behind the grim expression and dark, tangled hair. He looked at Las like a man like look at their brother- an instinctive love. Which was odd, because there was no way they could be related.

"Are you friends?" asked Alya softly. Telan supposed she must have seen Strider's look as well, and was briefly annoyed that he didn't get to ask. But annoyance faded away quickly into curiosity as Strider looked up at them.

"Aye," murmured Strider. "He and I have known each other for a long, long time. I forget how many years." He smiled softly and smoothed back a lock of hair from Las' forehead.

"I am Henric, and this is my wife Alya," said Henric, taking a step forwards. "My son is Telan, and the one in his arms is our daughter Cat. You may stay, share our roof and look after your friend."

Strider inclined his head. "Thank you for letting me help him," he said.

"Thank you for chasing off those men," replied Alya. "Those men from the town are always bad news."

"They are lucky I only chased them off," growled Strider. "If they come back, I shall not be so lenient." He looked down at his sword, and realised it was still on his belt. "Forgive me. I should have removed my sword." With deft hands he took it off and rested it against the wall.

Telan gazed at it in admiration, and his gaze grew wider as Strider removed two long white knives from where he had hastily stuck them in his belt and placed them next to the sword. A quiver that had been slung over one shoulder came next, half filled with arrows. Finally a bow that had been hooked over the quiver came to rest beside the sword and the knives.

Telan started towards them, transfixed. Strider looked up. "Don't touch."

"Sorry," said Telan, backing away hastily. "I didn't mean to…"

"It's alright," said Strider, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to Legolas. "But my sword is… rather special, in a way, and the rest aren't my weapons." He picked up one of the long white knives. It was crusted with blood. "These belong to Las."

Telan's eyes were still on the sword. It was long, much longer than his father's old one, and the sheath was etched with words that he couldn't read. He doubted whether they were actually the language he knew. Strider shifted and Telan looked away from the sword quickly, but Strider was only putting down the long white knife with a sigh. He looked back at Las, seemingly lost in thought.

Henric glanced out the window. "It's late," he said. "You should sleep, love. You've been up with the elf every night."

Alya nodded, stifling a yawn. "Telan, Cat, come on. Are you wanting somewhere to sleep, Strider?"

"Nay," replied Strider, not taking his eyes from Las. "I will stay here. I have learnt to sleep sitting in a chair." The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. "I have slept in far worse places."

"Alright then," said Alya. She looked at Henric.

"I might stay up a bit," said Henric. "I'm not tired."

Alya nodded, and then Telan followed her and Cat into the other room, the door swinging shut behind them. Henric watched them go.

He sighed as he sat down next to the fireplace. "My thanks for tonight, Strider," he said.

"You do not need to thank me," said Strider. "Even if Las was not here, I would not stand by and watch those men threaten you like that. It is my duty to stop them."

"Are you a soldier?" asked Henric.

Strider smiled softly. "Of some sorts."

"You don't sound Gondorian."

"I'm not, though I live in Minas Tirith," replied Strider. "I came from Arnor, a ranger. That is where I learnt to fight."

"My son, Telan," said Henric, "wants to learn to fight. I've seen him, swinging around branches like they're swords, pretending he is a soldier."

Strider pulled a bowl of water closer to him and rewetted the cloth on Las' forehead. "Do you want him to be one?"

"I was a soldier in Minas Tirith, during the War," said Henric. At this Strider frowned slightly, but Henric didn't notice and continued. "Though I did not go to the Black Gate, I was in the siege, as was Alya. Telan had been sent away." Henric sighed. "I never want to see anything like that again. To let my son see the same…"

"But there is no war now," said Strider softly. He was by the fire now, boiling herbs in water over the flame. He turned his head to look at Henric. "Your lad is brave."

"Foolish, more like," replied Henric. "That's why we moved out here. The city had too many ghosts."

"Aye," said Strider. "I know what you mean."

"Were you in the War?"

"I was," said Strider. "I was at Minas Tirith and then journeyed on to the Black Gate."

"But you said you were from the north," said Henric with a frown. He thought for a bit. "I remember the King brought Rangers with him up the Anduin. Were you one of those?"

"I suppose so," said Strider with a small smile. He took the water off the fire and blew on it. "I was there for all of it. But the War is over now. There is peace."

"Aye, and we paid for it dearly," growled Henric.

"We did," said Strider with a sigh. Dipping his hand in the herb-laced water, he judged it to be cool enough for Las, and poured some into a cup. Shifting so he sat on the bed, he carefully raised Las' head and trickled the water down his throat. Las twisted in the bed, his eyes firmly shut. A bead of sweat trickled down his face.

Strider grimaced as he felt Las' forehead. "Is he any better?" asked Henric.

He is not," said Strider softly, his voice low. He ran a hand across his face with a sigh. "I can give him the herbs to help stop the poison, but whether he still has the strength to fight it, I don't know."

"Have you known him long?"

Strider smiled. "For most of my life," he said. "We have fought together countless times. I have saved his life many times, and he has saved mine. It happens more often than you would think, with him." Strider smirked. "He draws trouble from everywhere."

"I know the type," said Henric. "When I was a soldier, there was one who was constantly getting into trouble on the battlefield. Half the times it was only luck that saved him. But despite that everybody seemed to love him. He was one of my best friends."

"Where is he now?" asked Strider.

"He was killed in the siege of the city," said Henric sadly. "His luck ran out."

"Sorry," said Strider.

"Don't be. I'm sure you've lost your fair share of friends over the years."

"Aye," murmured Strider. "I have. But never Las. He has come close to it quite a few times, and has nearly died on me more times than I care to remember, but he is alive still." He chuckled. "One time he was stabbed, beaten and poisoned, all in one go, and he still came out the other side."

"How…?" asked Henric.

"How did he survive?" Strider shook his head. "Elves are more resilient than mortals. They live forever, and though they can be slain, it takes a lot more than it does to kill a man. But most of it for Las was luck." He sighed again, putting down the cup on the floor. "Let's hope his luck lasts for one more time."

0-o-0-o-0

When Telan woke up, the rain had stopped and the sun was shining through the gaps in the shutters. He rolled over and got up, brushing the dust from his clothes. He had slept on a blanket last night, his mother and Cat taking the mattress, and the elf still in the bed.

Rubbing his eyes, he made his way into the other room. He heard his father talking, and then his gaze fell on the man sitting on the bed next to the elf. Suddenly all the memories of last night came rushing back.

"How is he?" he asked fearfully, looking at the elf. He looked in bad shape, worse than yesterday.

"Worse," said Strider shortly. He gently put a hand on Las' chest, but the elf twisted away. Strider moved so he was sitting closer to Las, and caught one of his hands. "Las," he murmured, and the elf stilled.

Strider kept talking, but Telan couldn't catch any of the words. It was like music rather than speech, the words slipping from the man's tongue like flowing water. Las was still as Strider spoke, and Telan could feel a calmness settling over the cottage.

He didn't know how long it had been when Strider finally fell silent, but Alya and Cat were also in the room now. Alya shook her head slightly, as if to wake up, and then busied herself with serving breakfast.

Telan realised his mouth was open and shut it. Las was sleeping somewhat peacefully, from the looks of it, and Strider sat back, sighing. He caught Telan's eye. "He should rest for a while now," he muttered.

Alya pressed a bowl into Strider's hands, containing a thick porridge. "I'm sorry there isn't much," she began to say. "We have-"

Strider cut her off. "I am grateful" he said. "For you allowing me to stay here and tend to my friend. If you would, I have some food of my own that I would be happy to share." He pulled his pack over with a foot and rummaged through it, finally pulling out a wrapped packet. He handed it over.

Alya unwrapped it to find strips of salted pork and other meats, along with wafers of biscuit. "No, we can't," she said. "It is your own food, and-"

"Take it," said Strider. He was busy repacking his pack, as the food had been down the bottom, and he had pulled out a lot of stuff whilst trying to reach it. As he stuffed a spare tunic back into his pack, something fell out and landed on the floor near Cat. She stooped and picked it up.

She turned it over in her hands. It was a flat square packet and wrapped in some sort of leaf, though it was unfamiliar. She looked up. "What's this?"

"Cat, give it back," said Telan, and Strider took it from her hand. He unwrapped a corner of it, revealing a pale creamy biscuit.

"It is lembas bread," he said.

"Le…Lembas bread?" asked Cat.

"It is elvish food," explained Strider. "I brought it in case I found Las, but right now he is cannot eat it." Cat gazed at it in wonder, and Strider broke off a corner and split it in two. He looked up at Henric and Alya. "It won't harm them, I promise."

Henric looked less than satisfied, so Strider broke off another piece of lembas and ate it himself, before handing Henric and Alya a small piece each. "It is meant to give you strength," he said. "Like cram, but better."

Henric nodded, taking the pieces, and Cat and Telan took the other two pieces from Strider. They both nibbled at it. Telan frowned. "It tastes…I don't know," he said. "Not sweet, but not, well, not sweet either. It's…"

"Wholesome?" asked Strider, and Telan nodded, finished off the rest of his piece. Strider put the lembas back in his pack. "Eating only lembas can keep you going for weeks."

"Is it magical?" asked Cat, her eyes wide.

Strider chuckled slightly. "In the same way that elves are magical, I suppose. I don't know, but Las will probably assure you it is not." At those words Strider's gaze was drawn back to the elf and his face became troubled.

"Eat your porridge Telan," said Alya. Telan jumped. He had been watching Strider again as the man tended to the elf. He was amazed to see how gentle Strider was, when he knew the man was strong enough to throw another man to the floor. Strider's face had changed as well, becoming softer, some of the lines disappearing as he smoothed back a lock of hair from Las' brow. They must be really good friends, he thought.

"Telan!" Telan jumped again and wolfed down his breakfast. It was hot and burnt his tongue, but it tasted alright and he was hungry.

Henric was standing by the door. "Come on," he said to Telan. His gaze lingered on Strider as they left the house.

_To Be Continued..._

_Again, reviews are very, very welcome. Next chapter will be up in two days- a Monday for me. I'm so tired, it's getting a little hard to keep track of the days. :)_


	6. Chapter 6

Just a Friend- Chapter 5

_Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this. Things may be coming to a bit of a head in this chapter, elfwise, though there are still quite a few chapters to come after this._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

The sun was sinking by the time Telan and Henric made it back to the house. As soon as they pushed open the door they could hear the elf.

Strider was sitting on the edge of the bed, talking soothingly, but Las still kept twisting and crying out, his face covered in sweat. The cloth slipped from his forehead and Strider cursed in another language. He bent down, dunked it in the bowl of cold water again, and then put it back on Las' forehead. Only this time, he didn't take his hand away.

Telan watched as Strider closed his eyes and began to speak in the musical tongue. As time drew on his voice became more and more distant, like he was deep in some other place, his body left behind. Las stilled slightly under his hand, but was still tossing his head, faint words escaping his lips every now and then.

Eventually Strider sat back, and the spell of those words broke. He sighed. His face looked drawn and weary, and he ran a hand through his hair. Beside him Las' lips moved again, whispering in the same lyrical tongue that Strider used.

"What are you saying to him?" asked Telan quietly. He took off his jacket and hung it in front of the fire. Alya was cooking over the fire and Cat had two dolls out on the small table in the room.

Strider looked up, a half smile crossing his face. "I don't know anymore," he said softly. "I am just saying I am here, that he is safe, and that..." He sighed again. "I doubt he can hear me," he said despondently. "The fever has a tight grip on him, and he is burning up. Part of me is thankful he is unconscious."

"Why?" asked Telan. He hadn't meant to ask, but the word had slipped out of his mouth, and he blushed. "Sorry," he muttered.

Strider shook his head, absent-mindedly clasping Las' hand again. "It's alright," he said softly, his voice weary and so different to when he had pinned that man against the wall. Yet Telan could still hear the slight undercurrent in Strider's voice, amplified when he glanced over at the elf, and it made him wonder yet again whether there was any way they could be related by blood.

Strider looked back at Telan. "If he was awake..." he said slowly. "I don't know what it is he would be seeing. This type of poison can cause visions and hallucinations, until the person falls unconscious." Strider ran a hand through his hair. "I have seen only a small part of what Las has seen in his lifetime. If he were to see things, hallucinate, because of the fever, it would be agony to watch. I have no idea what he would see, but I know it would not be good."

Telan watched the elf again, as he twisted and moaned softly on the bed. Strider turned to him and murmured something in the strange lyrical tongue, and Las quietened, if only slightly.

"What language is that?" asked Telan softly.

"Sindarin," replied Strider. "The Grey Tongue. It is the language of the elves."

Telan looked shocked. "But...you speak it so well."

A small smile appeared on Strider's face. "I have spent a lot of time with elves," he said. "I can speak the tongue as well as this one." Las twisted again on the bed and trembled, violent shivers going down his body. Strider grabbed hold of both of his hands as he shook and started to speak rapidly, the words tumbling and flowing from his tongue.

"Are you telling him it's all going to be fine?" The voice came from the other side of the room, and Strider's gaze fell on Cat, her young face curious. Las fell still, and Strider grew quiet.

"I am not," he said after a pause. Cat frowned, her little head tilted to one side, her curls falling down over her shoulder.

"Why? That is what my Ma tells me if I feel poorly." At this Alya glanced up from the fire, and smiled sympathetically at Strider, before turning back to the pot. Strider sighed.

"Because Las has heard those words too many times for him to ever believe them," he said softly. "I should know." He glanced back at the elf again. "I am just telling him I am here, and that I won't leave, and..." He trailed off and fell silent.

Las shifted again and his lips moved, faint words being whispered through cracked lips. Strider leant in close, listening as the elf talked in his feverish sleep. Telan could not make out the words he spoke.

"What is he saying?" he whispered, somehow feeling it was not appropriate to talk loudly.

Strider looked up. "Nothing that makes sense," he said wearily.

"Who's Estel?" piped up Cat from the table.

Strider started slightly. "Why?" he asked, a guarded tone creeping into his voice.

"He called out for him quite a lot before you came," replied Telan. "The way he said the name, I figured it was his friend or something." As Telan watched the elf again, Las' lips moved, and this time Telan was pretty sure they were making out the word Estel, again and again, as if this person was a lifeline he could cling to, to pull himself up.

Strider shook his head. "Estel is- was a friend of Las. But the man with that name is long gone now." Almost without thinking he took one of Las' hands and spoke softly in the Grey Tongue. Las stilled slightly, his lips no longer moving, calling out for Estel.

"Is he dead?" asked Cat.

"Cat!" said Telan sharply, but Strider shook his head.

"It's alright, Telan," he said. "Honestly, I don't know. He might be."

"What happened to him?" This time the voice belonged to Alya, who was bending over a pan in the fire. A few sausages and some bacon were sizzling on the pan.

Strider paused. "He…grew up," he said slowly. "He fought in many battles, and faced many things that he couldn't…understand, maybe. He was young, and didn't understand why the world was so cruel. He started to slip away, more and more frequently, until one day he just didn't come back." He bowed his head.

"I'm sorry," said Alya.

Strider sighed. "I would barely know him now," he said. His gaze fell back on Las and grew sober. He reached out and grasped one of the elf's hands, squeezing it lightly. Las whimpered slightly and twisted his head so he faced Strider, who reached out with one hand and gently brushed the hair back from his sweaty brow, replacing the wet cloth.

Alya passed him a plate of a sausage and a rasher of bacon. "You need to eat," she told him, passing out the rest of the food.

Strider smiled slightly, balancing the plate on his lap so he could keep hold of Las' hand. "My thanks," he murmured.

For a while it was quiet as they ate, the only noises being the crackling of the fire and the occasional moan that escaped from the elf's lips. Strider still held the elf's hand as Alya took his plate, and as soon as that happened he was looking over Las again, his face troubled as he felt the heat coming from his skin. He ground his teeth.

"Is he worse?" asked Telan.

"Aye" said Strider shortly. "I have done all I can with herbs to help him. Tonight will be the end of it, one way or another."

"What do you mean?" asked Henric, his brow furrowed in concern.

Strider sighed heavily. "Either his fever will break tonight, or it will not break at all and he will slip into a deep sleep from which he won't return. I have seen this before."

Cat and Telan's mouths were wide open. "But…but he's an elf!" said Cat. "Elves don't die."

Strider smiled sadly. "I'm afraid they do," he said sadly. "The tales are wrong sometimes."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Alya.

Strider shook his head. "It is in the hands of the Valar now."

0-o-0-o-0

That night was the longest night Telan had ever experienced. He sat by the fire as darkness fell outside. Cat was put to bed in the other room, but she would not sleep unless Alya or Henric were in there. Telan didn't move, sitting with his knees curled up to his chest and watching Strider.

The elf had started to shake uncontrollably an hour or so after they had eaten. He was trembling now, his head twisting from side to side as faint whimpers escaped his lips. His entire body was covered in sweat and occasionally he cried out in another tongue, the words soft, yet loud in the stillness of the cottage.

Telan jumped as Las cried out again, this time for Estel, followed by a string of words that he could not make sense of. Strider spoke back in the same tongue quietly, murmuring soft words in the elf's ear.

He had given up on sitting on the edge of the bed as soon as Las had started trembling. With a worried look in his eyes, he had shifted so he sat up against the wall on the bed. Las was leant up against his chest, and the man's arms tightly encircled the elf. Telan had noticed, though he wished that he hadn't, how the man's hands shook as he held the elf up against his chest.

Telan glanced at Strider's face every so often. It was a tight mask, but he could see in the grey eyes a flash of fear every now and then, as Las twisted violently, or called out for Estel yet again. Strider had taken to murmuring soft words almost constantly now as he held onto the shaking elf. Telan could make some of it out, as he spoke in the Common Tongue as well.

"It's alright," was what Strider repeated the most. "I'm here, _mellon-nin_." And yet the elf continued to shiver in his arms.

The fire died down, and Telan stirred to put another log on, thankful for the wood he had managed to bring back. It seemed so long ago when he had gone out with Cat to find logs, and had instead found an elf.

He dozed fitfully, jerking awake just as he managed to slip off into sleep. He wanted to sleep, wanted to just avoid the night and wake up the next morning, without having to wait to see whether the elf would live. But as soon as he thought that he felt guilty, like he was willing the elf to be silent.

Strider still sat holding onto Las, whispering soothing words in the elf's ear. As the night drew on, the words became more and more urgent. Telan, awake at one point, watched as Strider gently kissed the top of the elf's head. "I'm sorry," Telan heard him murmur. "I'm sorry I didn't find you until now. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you how you have always been the most loyal of friends. I'm sorry I have caused you so much pain, that you've had to save my life over and over again. I'm sorry that you followed me, all the way, and that now I cannot follow you."

Telan watched as a tear fell down Strider's cheek. "What would you say to me now, foolish elf?" he whispered. "What would you tell me now? How your actions were your own, and I am not to blame? Ai Valar, I have heard that one so many times. And yet I can't help feeling a little guilty, _mellon-nin_. I can't help it. I am the mortal one, and yet so many times you have nearly died. I can't help it, _mellon-nin_."

Strider then slipped into the other, more lyrical tongue that Telan couldn't understand, and the soft words washing over him gently lulled him to sleep.

_To Be Continued..._

_Does that count as a cliffie? *Runs and hides just in case it does*. Next chapter will be up on Wednesday._


	7. Chapter 7

Just a Friend- Chapter 7

_*Slowly creeps out of hiding* I hope this chapter makes you happy! Thank you for not killing me over the last chapter's cliffie._

_Sorry this one is a bit shorter than usual- I had to end it there, or the next chapter would be really weird._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

Telan jerked awake. Still half asleep, he uncurled from his corner by the fire. There was a low muttering coming from nearby, and he tried to make sense of it.

He heard his mother's voice, soft and quiet. "How long?"

There was another voice. It was a man's, but not his father's, rougher and lower, older. "A day or so. I cannot be sure." The voice sounded rough and forced, like the man was holding something back.

His mother's voice as well. "And then what?"

The stranger's voice. "I will take him and head back to Minas Tirith." The stranger sighed deeply, and Telan could almost hear the weariness in it.

"You are welcome to stay for longer, Strider."

Telan opened his eyes. Strider! The elf! He jumped to his feet, suddenly scared by what he had heard.

Strider was kneeling by the side of the low bed where Las, the elf, lay. The elf was still now, his face pale. Alya was standing over Strider. Telan watched as Strider looked around at him, and was shocked to see how tired the man looked. His eyes were red, as if he had been rubbing them, or…

Telan's gaze fell on the elf. Las was pale, lying so very still. The cloth was not on his forehead any longer, and Telan gulped.

"Is he…Is Las…?" Somehow he could not bring himself to say the words.

Strider smiled, and in that moment Telan felt a huge relief sweep over him, and he sighed deeply. Strider's grin widened.

"The fever broke," he said. "He's going to be alright, thank the Valar." He grinned again and looked back at the still form of the elf, smoothing back a loose lock of hair from Las' forehead.

"What time is it?" asked Telan, stifling a yawn.

"Not yet dawn," replied Alya. "Las will be awake soon?"

Strider nodded. "Now I know the poison has left his body, it should be fairly quick. He may wake up sometime in the night. I have seen this poison before. As soon as he is strong enough, we will leave. My horse I left at the inn in town." Strider smiled. "I don't want to impose on you any longer than I have to."

Alya shook her head. "Nonsense," she said. "Would you like something to eat?"

Strider grinned. "I would love something," he said. "But only a little."

Telan sat down in a nearby chair. "Where will you go?"

"Back to Minas Tirith" said Strider. "It is where I live." He smiled slightly as he said it, and Telan could see him imagining the white city, towering over the Pelennor, the banners fluttering in the breeze that always seemed to be there. Of course, he had not been in the city for many years. He had no idea whether it still looked like that.

Telan's eyes fell on the sleeping elf. "And Las?"

"He lives in Ithilien," said Strider. "But he is often in the city with me."

"You must be really good friends," said Telan. Strider paused, and then nodded, glancing back at the elf lying still in the bed.

"We are," he murmured. "We have been through a lot together."

"Like what?"

"Telan!" scolded Alya, pressing a hunk of bread and cheese into Strider's hands. "You don't question guests like that."

"It's alright," said Strider quietly. "We have journeyed far with each other. We have fought together, we have nearly died together. Whenever we are together, we spend half our time rescuing each other from near death." He chuckled.

Telan frowned. "Are you a soldier?" He had never spoken to a real soldier before. His heart quickened slightly at the thought that Strider was a real soldier, sitting in their home. Of course, his Da had been a soldier as well, but somehow that didn't count. Telan wanted to hear glorious stories of wars and battles, and Henric wouldn't tell them, leaving Telan to try and make them up on his own. Somehow they never sounded good enough.

"Sort of," said Strider.

"Is Las?"

"Aye, I guess so," said Strider. "He has fought for hundreds of years under the boughs of Mirkwood." His eyes darkened slightly as he said that, and he seemed to grow more distant, lost in memories if dark forests and armies encroaching on homes, hacking down anyone in their path.

Telan's eyes grew wide. "Hundreds of years!" he exclaimed. "How old is he?"

Strider came back to the present and chuckled slightly, though it maybe sounded a little forced. "I don't know. He doesn't know himself, I don't think."

"He doesn't know?" asked Telan. "How can you not know your age? I know I am thirteen, and even Cat knows how old she is."

Strider shook his head. "It is different for elves," he said. "He tried to explain it once, the way time moves for them. It can move swiftly, for everything moves quickly by them, and they change little. Yet it is also slow, for they do not count the years that pass them by. Elves do not pay much attention to the passing of the years. To him it doesn't matter."

Telan realised his mouth was open, and shut it. Strider sighed. "He has lived for many years before me," he said softly. "And he will live many years after me." His voice was soft, almost sad, and for a moment he was lost in thought again.

A small voice piped up from the doorway of the other room. "Is Las alright?"

Telan turned to see Cat stumbling towards him, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. He picked her up and balanced her on his hip. "He'll be alright, sis," he said softly. "Thanks to Strider, he'll be alright."

Strider smiled slightly. "It is thanks to you as well," he said. "For taking him in when you found him. And Henric, for not giving him up to those men."

Henric shook his head. "I wouldn't give a single morsel to men like those from the town. They are nasty pieces of work."

"Shouldn't something be done about them?" asked Strider softly.

"Aye, something should be done," said Alya, bending over the fire. "But what?"

"Surely the King could do something" said Strider. His face was drawn in a frown, but it was not as if he was angry. Telan realised with a frown of his own that Strider looked more worried than anything.

"He has more important things to think about," muttered Henric. "I saw the mess Gondor was left in after the War, and living in Minas Tirith you must know, Strider, how much there must be to do, even though it has been years."

Strider nodded. "I do," he said. "But is there no way for these men to be tried, or taken to Minas Tirith?"

"And who would do that?" asked Henric. "We are farmers. I have not wielded a sword for years. How could we take them?"

"The city could send soldiers," said Telan, sitting down by the table with Cat in his lap.

"Why would the King spare soldiers for that?" asked Henric bitterly. "Surely he has much more important things to deal with."

"Do you think so?" asked Strider quietly.

"Do not mistake me, I do not blame him," said Henric. "Things more important than one village on the outskirts of the realm must be dealt with. King Elessar has better things to worry about."

Strider nodded. "I suppose you make sense," he said. "But you do not feel resentment on the part of the King?"

Telan frowned. "He saved us all, didn't he? Why should we resent it?"

"You don't understand," said Henric. He turned to Strider. "Aye, I do, to tell the truth, but there is nothing I can do. We just have to live our lives as best as we can, and be thankful for what we have."

Strider smiled slightly. "I suppose so," he murmured. He turned back to the still form of Las, and filled an earthen cup with water. Carefully lifting the elf's head, he trickled the water into his mouth, emptying the cup.

Telan watched him, slightly in awe yet again. Strider was so gentle around the elf, so careful with him. Yet Telan had also seen, for a brief moment, the flash of anger in his eyes when fighting those men that had seemed so different from the man in front of him.

His gaze drifted to the weapons leant against the wall again, and he felt, not for the first time, the desire to hold a sword in his hands, to swing it and fight back with it. The desire hit him strongly, and he could almost feel himself reaching out for the mysterious sword leant against the wall, the one that he should not touch.

He wanted to learn to fight. He desperately wanted to, for how else could he defend his little sister, and his Ma and Da? He wanted to be a soldier, to fight in glorious battles and later hear the songs of them that the minstrels sing.

Of course, he was not an idiot. He knew you could die fighting in a battle, or get hurt. But at least, if that did happen, he would die doing something he wanted to do, something worthwhile.

He wanted to learn to fight. And Strider definitely knew how to fight.

Telan started to turn an idea over in his mind. It wasn't that it would need much work- all he wanted to do was to ask Strider to teach him to fight. It was just trying to ask at the right time, so that he had the best chance of Strider saying yes.

_Again, sorry about the length. But next chapter will be up on Friday, and maybe we will finally see our favourite elf open his eyes! (And even then it is not the end...)_

_Thanks for reading. Reviews are very welcome!_


	8. Chapter 8

Just a Friend- Chapter 8

_Not sure how medically accurate a few parts of this chapter are, but never mind._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

The sky was darkening as Henric and Telan came home yet again. Henric slung a bag of food from his shoulders, and instantly Cat jumped towards it, pulling it open with her little hands.

Telan nudged her away. "We will eat soon enough," he said with a grin. Henric began to pull things out of the bag, ready for supper.

Telan looked across the room, where Strider was sitting next to the elf silently. As he watched Strider seemed to slump in the chair, before jerking awake again.

Alya noticed it as well. "When was the last time you slept, Strider?"

Strider rubbed a hand across his face. "I don't know," he muttered. "Two, no, three days before I cam here." He grimaced guiltily. "I did not sleep when I went to the inn in the town. And I cannot sleep until I am sure Las will be alright."

Alya frowned. "As a mother, I object," she said sternly. "You need to sleep."

Strider shook his head. "When I journeyed to the War up the Anduin, I did not sleep for days and still managed to fight at the end. I will be able to last a little while longer."

Alya pursed her lips, but said nothing else and crouched down, trying to start the fire up again. As she pulled a log from the pile at the side of the hearth, the pile fell and logs went rolling across the floor. Alya cursed as they scattered across the room.

Strider got up from the chair and bent down, collecting logs in his arms and passing them back to Alya. "Here," he said, holding out the last log, that had somehow made its way to the other side of the room.

Alya smiled. "My thanks," she said. She was turning to put the final log on the fire when Telan cried out.

"Strider!" he called.

Strider spun around in surprise. "What is it?" His hand instinctively went to his belt, though his sword was still leaning against the wall.

Telan wasn't looking at him. His gaze was fixed on Las, and Strider looked over at the bed to see the elf moving ever so slightly, tossing his head from side to side. As Telan watched, a faint groan escaped the elf's lips.

Strider was instantly on his feet and next to the bed. As Telan moved closer he sat down on the edge and gently shook the elf's shoulder.

"_Mellon-nin_?" he called softly. "Las, can you hear me?"

The elf made no response, but as Telan came to the end of the bed, Cat close behind him, he could see Las moving restlessly, his eyelids flickering. Strider kept talking, but was once again speaking in the lyrical tongue that Telan couldn't understand.

"Las?" he called softly once more. "_Mellon-nin, lasto beth-nin_."

The elf shifted again, and then his eyes flickered open and locked on Strider. "Estel," he breathed. Telan watched as the elf's gaze didn't leave Strider's, and he marvelled at the sheer relief in the Las' eyes, and in Strider's. Though, thought Telan with a frown, he didn't know why Las was calling Strider Estel. Maybe the poison was still in him, a little bit.

Strider broke out in a grin. "It's me, Las, it is Strider." He shifted again into the other tongue for a brief moment, and the elf seemed to listen, his eyes still not leaving Strider's face. When Strider finished he nodded once.

"What…?" Las tried to push himself up on his elbows, but as soon as he raised his head his face blanched, and, if possible, became even paler. Strider pushed him back down firmly.

"Don't you dare," he said softly.

Las looked at Strider for what seemed like a long time to Telan, before his face softened in realization. "That bad?" he rasped, his voice harsh.

"Aye," said Strider briefly. He paused and bowed his head. "There was a moment," he murmured softly. "Where I thought…Where I almost thought…" He sighed deeply. "Don't ever do this to me again."

Las smiled slightly. "I didn't…mean to. What happened?" He struggled to sit up slightly and this time Strider let him, pulling him up so he was leaning against the wall.

Strider shook his head. "You tell me, _mellon-nin_. I was searching for you for weeks."

Las frowned. "Weeks?" He caught sight of Telan, standing at the end of the bed, and his frown deepened. "Where am I?"

"In the house of Henric and Alya, near a town on the outskirts of Gondor," said Strider. "They found you."

"I found you!" piped a small voice from behind Telan, and Cat emerged with a grin on her face. Telan tried to push her back, but Las was looking at her intently, his silver eyes piercing. He smiled.

"Thank you, little one," he said softly. "I am in your debt." Telan could hear the slight lilting accent in Las' voice, and he felt himself not being able to look away from the elf. Las was so different from Strider, with his pointed ears and long blond hair, and his lighter build. And there was something else as well, a glimpse of something in the elf's eyes that Telan could see that fascinated him. As Las' gaze flickered over Telan again, he suddenly saw the elf as incredibly old. Then the elf's eyes cut back to Strider, and Telan saw a younger person sitting in front of him, younger than Strider.

Las managed a weak smile at Strider, and said something in the Grey Tongue, his voice harsh. Yet Telan could tell that normally, his voice would be soft and melodious, and that if he was not so pale, his face would be fair. Strider smiled slightly at what Las said, but his face suddenly turned worried as Las groaned and slumped back against the wall.

"What is it?" he asked urgently.

Las raised one eyebrow. "Remind me," he murmured. "Never to get poisoned again."

The worry melted away from Strider's face and he chuckled. "I will try," he said softly. He turned around and took an earthen cup of something from the side of the fire. He held it out to Las. "Drink this. I promise it won't put you to sleep."

"Is that a real promise?" murmured Las. "Or a healer's promise? The two are…quite different."

"A real promise," said Strider. "Drink it."

Las took the cup, but as he grasped it his hand trembled and he nearly dropped it. Strider wrapped his own hands around the elf's and helped him to drink. Las grimaced as the tea slipped down his throat, but at Strider's sigh he kept drinking until the cup was empty.

"How do you feel?"

Las smiled weakly. "I am…." He broke off abruptly and struggled to sit forwards, one hand clutching at his stomach. The other covered his mouth as he sat forwards, his shoulders jerking.

Strider caught him and leant Las into him as the elf struggled to keep the tea down, his hand clamped over his mouth. Strider rubbed his back as Las tried to hold back the retches, until eventually the elf collapsed limply against him and was still.

Strider eased him back slightly, still holding him up with both hands. "Do not say you are fine."

Las smiled weakly, taking his hand away from his mouth. "_Hannon le,_" he murmured.

"I was going to get you to eat," said Strider softly. "But I think that would not be a good idea. You need to sleep, _mellon-nin_. We will return to Minas Tirith tomorrow, maybe."

Las nodded, and with Strider's help eased back so he was lying down again. He looked over at Henric and Alya, standing by the fire. "My thanks," he murmured.

"We do not need any," said Alya. "We would not have done anything different."

"Will you be alright?" piped up Cat, stepping forward from in front of Telan.

Las smiled weakly. "Aye," he said. "I will." His gaze drifted to Strider, who smiled, and Telan noticed yet again how the lines in the man's face seemed to disappear, and he became a different person from the grim man who had fought off the men. As for Las, he appeared young once more, his blond hair falling out around his face and making him look like, well, an elf.

Strider murmured something in the other tongue and Las nodded. His eyes drooped shut and in moments he was asleep. Strider watched him for a few minutes, his hand resting on Las' brow, before he turned away.

"So he will be alright?" asked Henric. "Las will be fine now?"

Strider nodded. "Aye. He will be," he said softly. "But I want to get back to Minas Tirith soon. He isn't healed yet."

"You can't leave!" blurted out Telan. The idea had been whirling in his head for some time, ever since he saw Strider fight the three men away, but he had not yet dared to say anything.

Strider frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I want you to teach me."

Henric growled under his breath. "Telan…"

"I've seen you can fight," said Telan to Strider, ignoring his father. "And you said you were a soldier of sorts. That's all I want to be. I want to go to Minas Tirith, I want to learn to fight, and be part of great battles. Please will you teach me?"

Strider shifted and sat forwards. "Telan…" he said hesitantly.

"Please!" cried Telan. "It's all I've ever wanted to be."

"It's not my decision whether or not you can learn," said Strider. "And being a soldier is not the only thing you can do. There are many other ways to live your life without seeing the kinds of things a soldier sees, even if the fighting is largely finished. A soldier is a tough life."

Telan shook his head stubbornly. "And I want that life. Will you not teach me?"

"I would be glad to teach you," said Strider. "if only for an afternoon. But it is not my choice to make. It is your father's."

Telan turned to Henric. "Please, Da, please can Strider teach me how to use a sword? I promise to be careful."

Henric growled under his breath. "I don't like the idea, son," he said eventually. "I don't want to see you learn how to fight. I won't let you be a soldier."

Telan opened his mouth to protest, but Henric stopped him with a wave of his hand. "I don't like it," he said. "But one day of learning with wooden sticks cannot harm. The better you can defend yourself and the family, the better for all of us. That is, if Strider is willing."

Strider nodded. "I am," he replied. "Tomorrow, maybe, if we may stay another night." His eyes fell back on the elf lying motionless in the bed, and he gently touched his forehead to make sure there was no heat. Strider nodded, satisfied. "And then we will be on our way."

Telan grinned. "Thank you Da!" he cried. "And thank you Strider. A lot."

Alya sighed. "Men and their fighting!" she cried. "All you seem to do is poke holes in each other."

"To be fair," said Henric. "Most of the men I 'poked holes' in were trying to 'poke holes' in me first."

Strider chuckled slightly. "There will be no hole poking Telan," he said. "Not if you want to learn properly. We will fight with wooden sticks."

"Not real swords?" asked Telan.

"You wouldn't be able to lift one to swing it," replied Strider. "I would be nervous of you injuring yourself or me. Besides, I only have one sword, and you cannot touch that one."

Telan nodded, but his face was slightly glum, at least until Strider smiled. "Did you know I spent the first twelve years of my life learning with wooden swords?" he asked. "In Minas Tirith, the younger boys we take for training don't get a sword until they are sixteen."

Telan looked up. "There are boys training in Minas Tirith?"

Henric sighed, and Strider grimaced guiltily. "My apologies," he said to Henric. "I did not mean to mention it."

"Mention what?" asked Telan.

"Never you mind," growled Henric. "Strider, do you know what happened to Las?"

Strider smiled slightly at the change in conversation. He shook his head. "I don't," he said softly. "Las' horse returned to Minas Tirith a week or so ago, and at the same time a Gondor patrol brought in his weapons, found on the ground, covered in blood and mud. I rode out immediately with some others, and tried tracking any prints from where the weapons were found. They led me to this area, but the rain washed everything away, so I resorted to knocking on doors." He sighed. "I was growing desperate, until I overheard those men in the inn in town. But beyond that I do not know what happened to him."

"Why didn't you ask him when he woke up?" asked Telan. His voice was slightly too loud and Las shifted in the bed. Strider turned around and placed a hand on his brow, and the elf stilled again. Telan winced. "Sorry," he muttered. "But why didn't you ask? Aren't you curious?"

"I am," said Strider. "I am very curious. I don't know what happened to him at all. But if he doesn't want to tell me, I am not going to ask. Las will tell me when he wants to, and not before."

"But what if it is something bad?" asked Telan, confused. "Don't you want to know?"

"It does not matter whether I want to know or not," said Strider, his voice slightly stern as he spoke to Telan. "I know Las well enough to know that he will tell me, if not right away. Something obviously happened to him, but I will not press it when he has just woken up, in an unfamiliar place, still recovering from orc poison."

"So when will you find out?"

"When I find out," said Strider simply. He looked up as Alya pressed a plate of supper into his hands. "My thanks."

Telan wasn't really satisfied, but he took his supper from his mother and ate, balancing Cat on his lap as he sat against the wall. Strider ate quickly, with one eye on Las at all times, just in case. As soon as he finished he glanced over at Telan.

"We shall do some sword fighting tomorrow," he said quietly. "If Las is alright. Which means that you should get as much sleep as possible."

Telan nodded eagerly and jumped to his feet. "Alright, Strider," he said, already disappearing into the other room. Strider smiled slightly as he shut the door.

"He does not truly understand," he muttered. "But," he said, turning to Henric. "I think you do. You understand why I will not ask Las, not yet."

Henric nodded. "Sometimes the worst ghosts aren't found in cities or on battlefields."

_To Be Continued..._

_As always, reviews are very welcome. Next chapter will be up on Sunday._


	9. Chapter 9

Just a Friend- Chapter 9

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read so far! Our elf is finally awake :)_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

It took a few moments for Telan to properly wake up in the morning. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes with a groan, before suddenly jumping to his feet. It was today! Today he would learn how to fight!

He hurried to get dressed, managing to put his shirt on backwards. Cursing under his breath, he moved it around and shoved his feet into well worn boots that had once belonged to Henric. He grinned. He would learn how to fight today!

He opened the door to the other room, taking a breath to try and calm himself. Alya was by the fire with Cat, who was stirring the pot of porridge over the flames. Her hands were already sticky with the intended breakfast. Henric was sitting at the table, whittling, whilst Strider sat next to Las' bed yet again.

Telan grinned slightly as he saw what Strider was doing. The man had a long stick in one hand, and was using a small knife to scrape down the length of it, peeling away the bark and shaping it. Another one, already finished, lay by his feet. Strider felt Telan's gaze on him and looked up.

He picked up the finished stick by his feet. "What do you think?" he asked, holding it out. It was crude, but it was the shape of a sword. Strider had even managed to take a shorter branch and make a cross hilt.

Telan grabbed hold of it. "It's heavier than I thought it would be," he said in surprise. But to his delight he didn't find it too heavy. He had grown muscles in his arms and back from all the chopping of wood and working in the fields, and Telan felt a strong urge to swing it around his head.

"It is lighter than a real sword," replied Strider, turning back to the stick in his hands. "This one is nearly finished."

"How is Las?" asked Telan, noticing the elf lying still in the bed.

Strider turned and looked at him. "Still sleeping," he said softly. "If he doesn't wake soon, I will wake him."

"Is he going to be alright?" asked Cat in her small voice from the fire. She looked up at Strider, and Strider couldn't help but smile at the porridge smeared over her hands and dripping down the wooden spoon she held.

"He will be fine," he said with a smile. Cat grinned, and turned back to the porridge on the fire, but as she did so the wooden spoon slipped through her sticky fingers and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

Las groaned slightly and his eyes flickered open. Strider turned to him with a grin. _"Mae govannen, mellon-nin,_" he said cheerfully.

Las grimaced slightly, and pushed himself up so that he was leaning against the wall. He ran a hand through his hair. "What…time is it?"

"Dawn," said Strider. "The day after you first woke up, if you remember."

Las nodded. "Aye, I remember," he said with a wince.

"How do you feel?"

"If by that you mean am I going to be able to keep down anything, then I feel fine," said Las with a smile. "Truly, I do not feel nauseous. After the numerous spider bites I have received, I know the feeling."

"Spiders?" asked Telan. "But spiders are tiny. They don't make you sick."

Las cocked his head, as if studying Telan, and Telan realised it was the first time Las had properly seen him. He nodded his head in an awkward bow. "My name is Telan," he said.

"Well, Telan," said Las. "In Mirkwood, the spiders are larger than dogs. If they bite you, it often means you become unconscious, and can even die."

"Has that ever happened to you?"

Las exchanged a look with Strider, and Strider sighed, his face becoming sorrowful. Las turned back to Telan. "I was nearly killed by spiders once, but it is a long story, and a sad one. I would not want to tell it."

Telan nodded, but inside he was a bit disappointed. He wanted to hear these stories of brave warriors and evil beasts. Strider leant down and passed Las a cup of water. He nodded when the elf took the cup with only the slightest tremor in his hands.

"You are better," he said.

Las smiled slightly. "You should believe me more often," he murmured, raising the cup to his lips. Strider turned back to the wooden sword and Las, putting down the empty cup, raised one eyebrow.

"What is that?" he asked.

"A wooden sword," replied Strider, focusing on his blade as it ran over the wood. "I am teaching Telan to fight."

Las smiled slightly. "You could have no better teacher."

Telan grinned. "Were you also in the war?" he asked. "I know there was only one elf amongst the Walkers, but I heard that there was fighting elsewhere, north of Gondor. At least that was what Ma said was being talked about in the city after the War. Were you part of that?"

Las frowned slightly, but instead of answering Telan, he turned to Strider, switching to the Grey Tongue as he began to speak.

"_Do they not know?" _he asked softly.

Strider shook his head minutely. _"I thought it safer not to tell them,_" he said. _"I did not want to impose upon them, and I can imagine it would come as quite a shock to them if I told them. I am simply Strider, and you are Las to them."_

Las chuckled slightly. _"Las? Surely you could have come up with a better name than that,_" he said. _"But they really have no idea that the King of Gondor and the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen are sitting in their cottage? They don't know that they dragged one of the Nine Walkers into their home, poisoned and feverish_?"

"_No,_" replied Strider.

_"When will you tell them_?" asked Las with a frown. _"They should know._"

"_I was going to send soldiers back here, once we return to the city. There are men in the town who tried to take you. I only just turned up in time._"

Las looked shocked. _"You could have told me this, Estel,_" he said. _"I had no idea. Who were they?_"

"_I don't know,_" said Strider. "_One of them said he was from a village on the edge of Mirkwood. He blamed the elves when the village was destroyed by orcs."_

Las shut his eyes briefly. _"Ai Valar,_" he murmured. _"It has been seven years and it still haunts us. I do not know the man, but I know a lot of the mortal villages in southern areas were destroyed. We tried to do something, but towards the end we were hard pressed enough to hold our own borders, let alone head south to protect villages."_

_"You are not to blame_," said Strider, his voice rough. "_I chased them off. I don't know if they will come back."_

_"I had no idea they had come,_" said Las, his gaze straying to the little form of Cat and Telan.

_"You were unconscious at the time,_" replied Strider. _"Besides, it is hardly surprising, knowing you. You manage to get yourself into the worst possible situations all the time._"

_"You know I don't mean to,_" said Las with a smile. When he saw the shadows in the man's eyes his gaze softened. _"I never mean to hurt you, Estel. You must know that._"

"_Aye,_" said Strider. _"I know._"

_"I am sorry_."

Strider sighed, and switched back into the normal tongue. "I know," he said wearily. "And I am too. I should have found you earlier."

Las shook his head, but he said nothing, instead turning back to Telan, who had been watching the rapid conversation with his mouth slightly open. Las smiled slightly. "There was fighting in the woods of my home," he said quietly. "Many elves died."

"Did you win?"

"Aye," said Las. "I guess you could say that."

Strider bent down and picked up the square of lembas bread from his pack. He handed it to Las. "Here, you managed to keep down the water, so you can eat this." Las smiled and snapped off a corner of the bread, chewing it slowly.

Telan grinned, and sat down at the small table as Henric passed him a bowl of porridge. "Eat up, son," he said with a smile. "You'll need your strength today."

Telan immediately began to wolf down the porridge, as Henric sat down and turned to Las and Strider. "You lived in one of the elven kingdoms, Las?" he asked.

"Aye, I lived in Mirkwood for most of my life," said Las, moving so he was leant against Strider as the man worked on the wooden sword. He ate another corner of lembas. "I was a captain there."

"Have you travelled much?"

Las frowned. "Not much. For most of my life I never left Mirkwood. There were too many things that had to be done, too many battles to be fought."

Strider smiled slightly as he worked on the wood in his hands. "It is nearly finished, Telan," he said. He added a few more touches, before putting down the small dagger. "There," he said, holding it up. "It will do."

Las took it from him, and though his hand trembled he held the sword like a warrior, feeling the weight and balance of it. He smiled slightly, and handed the sword to Telan. "It is good," he said. "Believe me when I say it is much better than anything Strider carved when he was younger."

Strider chuckled slightly and picked up the other sword. He stood up. "Is there anywhere flat, Henric, where we could practise?"

Henric frowned. "The area just outside the woods is flat, and won't be muddy," he said. "Telan knows where I mean." He stood up. "I must be off. Have fun, son."

Telan grinned, and Cat waved goodbye as Henric left, shutting the door behind him. Strider turned around, and then started in surprise as he saw Las trying to get to his feet. He pushed the elf back down easily with one hand.

"What do you think you are doing?" he asked.

Las looked up. "I am coming with you," he replied.

"No you are not," said Strider firmly, using the wooden sword to push Las back down once more as he tried to rise. "You are not well."

"I am well enough to go outside", said Las. He slipped into the Grey Tongue. "_Saes, Estel, I have not been outside for too long. You spoke of woods."_

Strider sighed. "I do not want you to fall ill again, _mellon-nin_."

"Strider, you know if you do not let me come, I will simply follow you anyway." Las smiled slightly from where he sat on the bed. Strider sighed.

"I knew you would say that," he said with a small smile. He held out his hand to the elf. "If you fall ill, you are to blame."

Las laughed slightly, and Telan's eyes widened at the sound. He had never heard anyone laugh like that. It sounded like the bubbling of silver springs, like... He didn't know. But his lips curved up in a smile as Las, getting to his feet, laughed again as Strider rolled his eyes as the elf stumbled.

Las smiled. "Outside?" he asked, his voice still rough and scratchy. Telan grinned, though slightly nervously, as the elf smiled at him, and Strider took one of Las' arms, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Outside," he said with a smile.

_To Be Continued..._

_Next chapter will be up on Tuesday! Sorry for any minor mistakes- I had a very tiring and long day today._


	10. Chapter 10

Just a Friend- Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

The morning sun was shining into the cottage through the open window, and Telan noticed how it glinted off Las' hair, making his blond hair shine. The more childish part of his mind tried to compare it to gold, before the rest of his mind, anxious to be grown up in front of Strider, told it to shut up.

Las leant on Strider as the man looked at him, his brow furrowed in worry for his friend. Las stumbled slightly as Strider took a step forwards, and Strider frowned. "Are you-?"

"I am alright," said Las, straightening up. A sudden spell of dizziness came over him and he swayed, leaning into Strider, who shifted, pulling Las further against him to allow him to lean on the man. Las looked up, his eyes flitting around the cottage. They came to rest on the weapons piled against the wall. "My bow," he murmured. "And my knives. You found them?"

"A patrol found them" said Strider. "That is how we knew you were missing."

Las nodded with a slight smile. He took a few steps forwards with Strider, but his legs felt heavy and he swayed forwards. Had Strider not been holding onto him, he would have fallen.

"I am sure you are fine," said Strider sarcastically before Las could speak. Telan held open the door as Strider carefully walked Las outside. He nodded at Henric and Alya as they went, and Cat gave a grin to Telan as he went out the door, the wooden swords in his hands. Telan grinned back, but he was suddenly excited and nervous at the same time. What if he wasn't any good at fighting? What if Strider, seeing how bad he was, decided not to teach him any more? He looked over at the man and was suddenly panicked, though Strider was not looking at him.

The man's eyes were half on the ground in front of them, and half on the elf leaning on him as he held onto Las' arm, slung around his shoulders. Las still looked pale and drawn, and Telan realised it was only yesterday evening that he had woken up. It had seemed so long ago, like the day had stretched out into a hundred days, and time, whilst not dragging, had been added to without him realising.

Strider glanced over at Las yet again, and Telan noticed the warmth in his expression, which only multiplied when Las, catching Strider's gaze, smiled softly and murmured something in the other tongue that they shared. A grin broke out on Strider's face, and he looked back to where Telan was walking behind them.

"Do you have the swords, Telan?" asked Strider as he walked with Las around the cottage to the back. Las breathed in deeply, and a deep light kindled in his eyes as he caught sight of the woods.

"I have them!" cried Telan, running along to come next to Strider and Las. He looked over at the elf. "Have you ever fought Strider, Las?"

Las chuckled slightly. Now he was outside he was walking straighter, and leant less on Strider for support, though the man's arm was still holding him up. "I have, Telan," he replied. "But only for practice."

"Who won?" asked Telan, swinging the wooden swords in his hands.

Las looked over at Strider. "Who has won most of our matches, _mellon-nin_?"

Strider sighed. "It usually ends in a draw," he said to Telan. "Las only wins through trickery and deceit."

Las shrugged slightly. "It is not trickery if you are a wood elf," he muttered. "It is simply good fighting skills."

They reached the edge of the woods, and Strider found a flat, dry area that would be a good place to practise. Carefully he lowered Las down so he was sitting up with his back against a tree. Telan watched in amazement as the tree's branches rustled, though there was no wind. Las placed one hand against the trunk and the branches stilled slightly. He smiled.

Strider smiled slightly at Las. "Let me guess," he said sarcastically. "The tree is overwhelmed with joy."

Las opened his eyes and looked at Strider. "Aye," he said with a smile. "He saw me being carried in by your mother, Telan."

Telan frowned. "How can you-?"

"He is a wood elf," said Strider as Las shut his eyes again and relaxed back against the tree. "He can speak with trees and animals easily. All the trees adore him back in his home. He only has to ask them to do something and they will all try and jump to his aid." He looked over at Las. "You are not to try and climb the tree,_ mellon-nin,_" he said sternly.

Las nodded sleepily, but he was still incredibly weary, and weak from the poison. He soon slipped into a light sleep, his eyes half open as he dreamed. Strider took off his coat and dropped it in a heap on the ground. He took the small dagger from his belt and stuck it in the ground next to Las, so it would not interfere when they were fighting.

Strider took one of the swords from Telan and put it on the ground. He turned back to Telan. "How do you think you hold it?" he asked.

Telan took the wooden sword in one hand and curled his fingers around the hilt, lifting it up in front of him. Strider studied his grip, moving his fingers slightly. "Good," he said. "Now turn sideways."

Telan turned. "Why?" he asked.

Strider grinned. "It's a smaller target." He picked up his sword and swung it in his hand. "Put one foot back," he said. "You want some purchase on the ground."

Telan obeyed immediately and stood ready, his body tense. Strider turned and faced him. "Fighting with a sword, Telan, is not about hacking and slashing, and hoping you hit someone. It is tiring work. Every move that you make must count. Do you understand?"

Telan nodded. "Don't hack and slash, and make every move count," he repeated. "But don't you need to hack and slash sometimes?"

Strider smiled. "If you have no other option," he said. "But in a fight, you always have to have another option. If you get to a point where the other person is leading the fight, then you have lost already. Now, try and hit me."

Telan ran forwards with his sword raised, but Strider neatly turned and Telan fell past him. He felt the tap of a sword between his shoulder blades. "No hacking," said Strider.

Telan turned to face him, but instead of running straight away, he balanced himself, the sword out in front of him. He studied Strider, who smiled slightly. "Are you going to try again?"

For an answer Telan moved forwards, but this time he kept his eyes on Strider. The sword made a resounding _thwack_ as they connected, and Telan jerked backwards. The sword spiralled out of his hand and flew to the floor with a _thunk_. Telan stood still, blushing.

Telan paused as Strider levelled his sword at him. Strider smiled. "Don't drop your sword," he said.

"It's getting heavy," said Telan as he moved over to it. "What happens if you can't hold onto it any longer?"

Strider picked up Telan's sword and held it out to him. "This sword," he said as Telan grasped the hilt. "Must become part of your arm. It has to be part of your body. You can move your arm without thinking, can you not? You must be able to do the same with your sword."

"But what happens if I drop it?" Telan grabbed hold of it and shifted it in his hands. The weight was pulling his arms down, and a small part of him wanted to sit down on the ground and drop the sword. But a larger part of him was still excited, still giddy with anticipation. He was finally learning how to fight.

"You cannot drop part of your arm," said Strider with a smile. "Now, again."

Telan lunged at him, and Strider blocked the blow. "Relax your arm!" he called out as he easily parried Telan's thrust. "You must not slash. You must flow with the fight."

The short bout quickly ended when Strider thrust at Telan, who panicked and didn't manage to block it in time. He grinned, panting heavily. "How do you know all this, Strider?"

"I had good teachers," said Strider, glancing over at Las. Telan followed his gaze, and saw something that made him jump in shock.

"What is it?" asked Strider.

"His…his eyes!" exclaimed Telan. "His eyes are open!"

Strider frowned. "So they are. That is good," he said. "I was worried when he slept with them shut."

Telan's mouth hung open. "What?" he asked. Strider looked down at him, confused, and then began to chuckle.

"I am sorry, Telan," he said. "I didn't realise you didn't know. Elves sleep with their eyes open. It is only when they are incredibly tired or injured that they close their eyes to sleep."

"Oh," said Telan, feeling slightly foolish.

"Do not feel foolish," said Strider. "When I first saw an elf sleep, I screamed so loudly that I woke the elf and most of the household." He chuckled.

"Who was that elf?" asked Telan. "Were they angry?"

Strider paused, and the smile disappeared from his face slightly. "They were not," he said softly. "It was an elf called Elladan, my…one of Las' friends."

"Did Las teach you how to fight?"

"Nay," said Strider, shaking his head. "He taught me how to shoot a bow properly, but it was my…Elladan and his brother Elrohir that taught me how to fight. And then over the years I learnt a lot from the Rangers, and all the small skirmishes I fought in. I can fight like an elf, or I can fight like a man. It is up to me to choose."

Telan sighed. "I wish you were staying longer, so I could learn more," he said. "You are leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Aye," said Strider. "I need to get Las back to Minas Tirith." He picked up his sword from where it had been resting against his leg. "Are you ready to go again?"

Telan nodded, picking up his sword and getting into the correct stance. Strider nodded. "If you keep practising," he said. "There will come a time when it is all natural. As soon as you pick up a sword, you will stand like that and not even think about it. But for now, move your left leg further back and put more weight on it. It will give you more power."

He raised his sword. "Ready?" Telan nodded, and the clash of wooden sticks began to echo throughout the woods.

_To Be Continued..._

_I realise that there is not a great deal of action that has been happening in these past few chapters, but there should be some more coming soon, either next chapter or the one after it._

_I know nothing about how to fight with a sword, so for anyone who does (lucky!) I apologise if this is not how you learn. I based this on Arya's lessons in Game of Thrones._


	11. Chapter 11

Just a Friend- Chapter 11

_Here is more conversation including our beloved blond elf- I seem to recall someone asking about that._

_Sorry if this is not the most thoroughly edited piece of work- I have just gotten back from seeing the TFIOS movie, and oh wow did I cry. I was a wreck in the cinema. Don't get me wrong, it was amazing, but I cried so much! As soon as the credits started rolling, you could just hear all the sobs in the cinema (including my own). As a result, I now have a massive headache._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

They practised together for most of the morning, on and off, though Strider always kept one eye on Las. For most of the time the elf was sleeping under the boughs of the tree, but as the morning wore on and noon came, Strider noticed he was awake, idly flipping Strider's small dagger in his hand. But then Telan tried to knock back Strider's wooden sword, so he turned back to their practice.

It was around noon when Alya came out back to where Strider, Telan and Las were. She was carrying a small covered basket. Beside her was Cat, struggling with large, heavy waterskins.

Strider put his wooden sword down on the ground and pushed the dark hair out of his eyes with a smile. Alya pulled back the cover on the basket to reveal bread, cold ham and cheese. "How is it going?" she asked Telan.

"Great!" said Telan enthusiastically. Strider chuckled.

"He is good, for someone who has never lifted a sword before. He would make a good swordsman."

Alya pursed her lips slightly, but her gaze turned to Las, who was awake, but looking into the woods with concentration. "How is he?" she asked softly.

"Being outside is helping him," said Strider. "But he is still weak. He is not better yet."

Alya nodded. "I hope you don't mind Strider, but I fetched the elvish bread from your pack for Las." She pulled it from the basket and handed it over.

Strider smiled. "My thanks," he said. He watched Cat with amusement as she handed Telan a water bottle, and Telan poured it over his head. He grinned at Strider as water dripped down his face.

Alya laughed. "I will leave you to it," she said. "Come on Cat, there is bread to be made."

Cat made a face, putting the other waterskins on the floor. "Can't I join in?" she asked.

"Fighting isn't for little girls," said Telan.

"Why can't girls fight?" asked Cat, pouting.

Strider smiled slightly. "They can," he said. "I knew a woman who fought in a battle, and she fought as well as any man. What I think Telan means is that you are too little to hold the sword."

Cat frowned, and Telan chuckled. "Maybe when you are older, kitten," he said, and Cat turned and followed Alya back inside.

Strider picked up a waterskin and made his way to Las, crouching down at the elf's side. "What is it, _mellon-nin_?" he asked as he uncorked the waterskin and handed it over.

Las turned his gaze from the trees and towards Strider with a smile. "It is nothing," he said. He smiled, though his voice was weary. "The trees are peaceful. It is so different to Ithilien."

"Aye," said Strider. "I forget, sometimes, that there were places outside the war that remained almost the same. To them, the war was a frightening thing happening somewhere else, taking their men away."

Las nodded. "Is that lembas?" he asked, his gaze falling on the packet in Strider's hands.

"Drink first," said Strider. He looked over his shoulder. "Bring the basket of food over here, Telan."

They sat under the tree and ate the food that Alya had brought them. Las only ate a little lembas bread, before putting it down with a sigh. He leant back against the tree. "Don't get poisoned," he murmured to Strider. "It really is unpleasant."

"That advice has come far too late, _mellon-nin,_" said Strider. "But I am sorry."

Las looked over at him. _"Don't,_" he said in the Grey Tongue.

_"Don't do what?"_ asked Strider.

_"Don't say you are sorry,_" said Las. _"Saes, do not say it. Not to me."_

Strider frowned. "_Why not_?"

_"Because every time you say it, I can't help but feel guilty, mellon-nin,_" said Las, his voice weary. _"I can't help it._"

_"What in Arda are you talking about_?" asked Strider. _"What do you mean?"_

_"I already cause you enough pain as it is,_" said Las. His voice was tight, as if he was trying to keep it in check. _"I already hurt you so much, Estel. You are always here, trying to save me. You have to watch me battle, again and again, and it hurts you more than you care to admit. It is I who should be sorry."_

Strider grabbed one of the elf's hands. _"Don't you ever say that to me,_" he said, his voice rough. _"You can't say that to me."_

_"Why not?" _asked Las wearily.

_"Because it is I who am constantly hurting you, mellon-nin!" _exclaimed Strider. _"Don't pretend like you are completely happy here. I saw you when you first heard the gulls. It is my fault you walked those paths."_

Las cut him off. _"That is nothing right now,_" he said. _"The pain caused by those gulls is nothing I would not bear for you, mellon-nin, and for Gimli, and all those still on this earth. Do not blame yourself over that. I would have followed you anyway."_

Strider shook his head. _"You are asking me to watch you fall apart, mellon-nin. I…I talked to my brothers. They have known…others. And this time, I can't catch you. I can't help."_

Las smiled slightly. _"You can, Estel. You are still Estel, despite everything else. The war has not taken that away as well. I won't let it._" For a moment the elf's voice cracked and he stopped talking for a moment, trying to compose himself.

_"The war has changed everything," _ he said wearily. _"And I will not let it take away anything else, or anyone else, that I love. You cannot be sorry for me, Estel, because things have to still be the same. We can't have lost everything, mellon-nin. We can't have. And never before have you told me that you feel sorry for me_."

"_But I do feel guilty-"_

_"How can you say that_?" Telan jumped, startled as Las spoke up to Strider. _"Estel, you cannot say that to me! What I may have done or not done is on my hands. The deaths of those in Mirkwood, that maybe I could have saved if I was there, are on my hands, not yours. You did not pull me away from there. I came willingly, and I would do it all again, mellon-nin. Every single part."_

Strider sighed slightly. _"It will not go away," _he murmured. _"Nearly every night, I see Boromir die in my arms, or Halbarad. I see everyone we didn't manage to save. And the world did not even pause to say sorry to them. The world did not stop to say how they didn't deserve what they got. The world laughs at them."_

_"I know,"_ said Las softly. _"Believe me, I know. So many people didn't have a happy ending. I spent hundreds of years in Mirkwood seeing just how the tales of old didn't matter one bit, not when you were lying there in pain. It doesn't work that way, and you know it, Estel. Nobody gets a good ending, at least not any of us."_

_"Aye,_" murmured Strider. "_My ending will come when I am old, and can no longer keep up with you. It will come when I lose all chance of being who I was, all chance of doing anything else worthwhile. Your ending…" _He sighed heavily.

_"My ending will come when I can no longer hold onto this earth,_" said Las calmly. _"But it will not come for a long time, not until I am too broken to maintain a grip. I will never leave you, Estel. Never."_

Strider smiled. "I know," he said softly. He turned back to the basket of food. "Eat as much as you can, Telan," he said. "The more you eat, the more energy you have and the bigger you grow."

"Does it help, being really big in a battle?" asked Telan as he ripped a slice of ham apart. Strider glanced over at Las.

"Not necessarily," he said. "Elves are slimmer and smaller than men, and yet I know Las could very easily kill many people bigger than him."

"And dwarves are far shorter than elves or men," said Las softly. "Yet they are still deadly when they need to be." He smiled slightly at the memories.

"What is important," said Strider. "Is being able to read a battle. It is all good and well charging in with your sword raised high, but if you happen to be charging at someone who is aiming to hack at your legs, then it is pointless. You have to be able to know exactly what the other person is about to do before they do it."

"How do you do that?" asked Telan.

"Watch their eyes," said Strider. "Whilst at the same time watching everything else around you. A man's eyes betray their movement, and in the heat of battle, few remember that."

Telan nodded eagerly. "Watch their eyes," he repeated. "Okay. What if they aren't in front of you, though? What if you can't see their eyes?"

"Eventually you will be able to sense it," replied Strider. "Where your opponent it, what he is planning to do. If you keep fighting for long enough, you will be able to feel it."

"Do you think I will ever be able to?" asked Telan. "Feel it without looking, I mean."

Strider sighed. "I pray to the Valar that you will not have to," he replied. "The reason I can fight well is because I have been fighting for most of my life, and I am old. You do not want to fight your entire life, Telan."

Telan frowned. "But I want to be a soldier," he said. "I want to be able to fight."

Las suddenly looked up. "Telan," he said in his quiet, not yet melodious voice. "You do not want to have to fight like we have fought. The shadow is gone now, and you should be very thankful that you did not have to fight it."

Telan wasn't satisfied. "But I want to be able to protect people," he replied. "I want to be able to defend my family, and my home."

Las smiled slightly. "And that is admirable, Telan," he said softly. "But you do not understand. You have never seen a war, _penneth_, and it is not glorious. It is not remotely good. Aye, you should want to defend your home. That is good. But believe me when I say you do not want to be in a war. Strider and I, we had to fight. Neither of us had much of a choice. But war is not glorious. War is not celebrated. War is violent, and messy, and too often the people that die are the ones that don't deserve it. You need to understand that, Telan, before you choose."

Telan nodded, slightly surprised, as it was the longest Las had ever spoken. Las smiled softly, and then leant back against the tree with a sigh. Apparently the speech had made him weary again.

Strider smiled slightly. "He's right, Telan," he said softly. "But that can't stop us practising. Come, pick up your sword and we will go again."

Telan grinned and vaulted to his feet, scrabbling in the dirt for his sword. Strider was already on his feet. A soft smile was on his face as Telan got his sword and held it up. They moved slightly away from the now sleeping form of Las, and Telan shifted into the position Strider had taught him.

Strider raised his wooden sword. "Ready?" he asked him. Telan nodded, and Strider lunged forwards. The clack of wooden sticks began to sound out again on the edge of the woods.

_To Be Continued..._

_A bit more emotional angst, with a rather emotional elf :) Probably some residue feels from TFIOS rubbing off on this chapter! Next one will contain more action, definitely, and will be up on Saturday. As always, reviews are welcome._


	12. Chapter 12

Just a Friend- Chapter 12

_A bit more action here, with a familiar, if not very welcome face returning. Mwahaha..._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

They had been going for a while when suddenly Las, who had been sitting with his eyes half shut against the tree, sat up, alert and tense. Strider's gaze instantly went to him and his sword dropped. Telan, not noticing until the last minute, managed to stop his sword mid-swing. "What is it, Strider?" he asked.

Strider made his way swiftly to Las' side as the elf stood shakily to his feet. _"Mellon-nin_?" he asked softly. _"Man cenich?"_

Las blinked. "Someone is out there," he murmured softly, placing a hand against the tree in a not so subtle effort to steady himself. "Someone the trees don't like. He is dangerous."

"Telan, get back," said Strider quietly. He tensed, looking into the trees. "Who goes there?" he called out loudly.

Las moved back as a figure came clear, moving through the woods. "Hello again," came a rough voice, and as the figure moved forwards, Strider's face tightened in recognition.

"I thought I told you to stay away," he said. "I thought I told you never to come back."

"You did," said the figure, throwing back his hood. His scar rippled again as he spoke. "But this was an opportunity too good to miss, my friend."

Strider shook his head. "I am not your friend."

The scarred man laughed bitterly. "Then I shall take you down." A sword suddenly appeared in his hand, and he grinned, his scar rippling on his sallow face. "I wanted the elf, and you wouldn't let me take him. I want him now. Where is he?"

Telan looked around, and was surprised to see that Las was nowhere around them. His gaze turned back to Strider as the man stepped forwards, bringing the wooden sword forwards.

"He will never go with you," said Strider, barely restraining the anger in his voice. "And you will never take him."

The man grinned, his eyes without mirth. "But I have a sword here," he said. "And you have nothing but a twig, and a young boy standing behind you." His gaze fell on Telan. "Hello, boy," he said softly. "Where is the elf? Tell me or I will hurt you and your friend."

Telan gulped, but he shook his head slowly. "No," he said. "I won't."

The man's grin disappeared. "Fine then," he said, his voice silky. "I will take down your friend first, and then I will take down you." He swung his sword lazily, and Strider, his face taut with anger, raised his wooden stick.

"Last chance," said Strider. "Leave now." There was a dangerous edge to his voice that made the man's face blanch ever so slightly for a second, before he smiled again.

"My friends were too scared to come back here," he said. "So I ended them, just in case. I will end you too."

"I'd like to see you try!"

The words came out of Telan's mouth before he could stop them and he suddenly clamped his mouth shut, his eyes wide. The scarred man smiled.

"You will watch me try, boy," he said softly. "You will watch, and then it will be your turn."

"Run," said Strider softly over his shoulder. "Run, Telan."

Telan shook his head. "I'm staying here," he said, even though it sounded foolish to his ears, and his eyes fell to the wooden sword in his hands. "I'm staying," he said again, as if trying to convince his hands to stop trembling.

The man shrugged. "Fine then," he said. "But I shall start with your friend first." He raised his sword, and then, in a lightening stroke, brought it down towards Strider.

Strider dodged, and the fight began in earnest. The scarred man swung his sword again, the steel blade cutting through the air, but Strider deflected it off his wooden sword and twisted away, coming up behind the man and striking his back, hard, with his sword.

The man grimaced and spun, his sword out, but Strider ducked and kicked out at his legs, making the scarred man stumble and fall back. They fought back and forth, neither of them gaining the upper hand. Strider was the better swordsman, but he had not slept for days, and it was beginning to show. The scarred man was not as good, but he was more brutal, putting all the force behind his swings that he could muster. His sword was real as well, thought Telan, not a wooden training sword.

The two men fought back and forth, and all the while Telan stood there, paralysed, his eyes watching them ceaselessly. The scarred man tripped Strider and swung his sword down over his head. Strider lifted his own wooden sword to stop the blow. It did, but the force from the scarred man's swing split the wooden sword in two.

Telan's eyes grew even wider as he saw Strider get to his feet, the broken hilt of wood in his hand. The scarred man laughed, and suddenly moved, running forwards towards Strider.

It all happened so quickly for Telan. The man swung, and Strider could not block the blow. He twisted and spun away, but the man moved his sword, catching his legs with the flat of the blade and sending Strider sprawling to the ground. He hit his head with a resounding thump on the hard, stony floor. He didn't move.

Telan's eyes didn't leave the scarred man as he slowly turned around, sword levelled at Telan. "Where is the elf, boy?" he asked softly. "Where is he?"

Telan shook his head. "I don't…" he began to say, and then stopped. He looked up, to where the branches of a tree overhung them, and his heart seemed, if possible, to leap even further into his throat.

He backed up again. "I don't know," he said. The scarred man followed him forwards, his eyes alight with a dangerous glint.

"Where is he, boy?" he asked again. Behind him, Telan could see Strider beginning to stir slightly, and the sight fuelled him with some sort of naïve courage.

"I'll never tell you," he said, his voice sounding pathetic and thin to his ears.

The man laughed. "Oh really?" he asked. "I doubt that." He took another step forwards, and Telan backed up again until he felt the hard cold bark of the tree against his back. He gulped.

"I will make you tell me, boy," said the man, his scar rippling down his face. He took another step forwards, and his sword was nearly touching Telan's chest…

When a lithe shape dropped out of the trees and onto the man. Telan jumped in surprise as the elf forced the man to the ground, Strider's dagger in his hand. The man growled, and together they began to grapple back and forth for the dagger that the elf had, poised above the man.

Telan saw Las' face as the elf was spun onto the ground, and he was surprised. The elf was not scared, even though the man had somehow knocked the dagger out of his hands. His eyes burned with a barely suppressed fury as they fought, Las kicking out as the man held him down.

But the elf was still recovering from the poison, and he was weak. The man's hand slowly closed around Las' throat, and he grinned.

"Not so mighty now, are you?" he taunted as slowly the air was cut off from Las' lungs. Las twisted, and punched the man in the face, but the scarred man held on, his hand tight around Las' throat.

Telan watched, paralysed once more. Las' struggles were becoming weaker and weaker, and he could see Strider moving, raising his head, but he would be too late, because the man's hand was tightening and Las' eyes were sliding shut, and Telan didn't know what to do, he didn't know what he was supposed to do, and the dagger the elf had had was out of reach, and…

And Telan glanced down and saw the wooden sword in his hand. And without really knowing why, he lifted it, and with a cry he ran forwards, and brought it down with all his might on the back of the scarred man's neck, and the man cried out and let go of Las, who rolled over, coughing…

And then Strider was suddenly on his feet, and he snatched up the sword that the man had dropped and now the fight was back, but it wasn't really, because Strider had a sword and the man did not, and Strider's face was full of rage, and the man fell down in front of him, in the dirt, and…

And then it was all over. Telan stood, the sword dangling limply in his arm. Las was crouched on the ground, coughing, one hand at his throat. Strider was stood over the scarred man, who was panting, lying on the ground.

Strider's face was thunder. "I told you," he said, his voice sounding like the edge of steel. "I told you what would happen if you came back."

The man went to say something, but Strider suddenly moved, and swung the hilt of the man's sword, knocking him out cold. The man sprawled on the ground.

Strider worked quickly, pulling off the man's coat and ripping it up, first tying his hands together, then his legs. When the knots were secure he was on his feet again, and in an instant was at Las' side, crouching down next to the elf with a hand on his back.

Las stopped coughing and looked up. "It's not…too bad," he said breathlessly.

Strider grabbed hold of his arm and pulled Las to his feet, supporting the elf's weight as Las staggered and coughed again. "Easy," he murmured.

Las nodded weakly, and coughed again. He looked up. "My thanks, Telan," he murmured. Strider frowned.

"_Mellon-nin_?" he asked.

Las smiled slightly at Telan's still shocked face. "He hit…the man over the head…with his sword…when he was choking me," he said between gasps for breath. "I am in your debt, Telan."

Telan didn't know what to say. He nodded awkwardly, the wooden sword falling out of his hand and hitting the sword with a thump. Strider's gaze fell on the man, lying unconscious on the ground.

"Telan, run back home and tell Alya what has happened," he said. "Then get some rope and bring it back to me."

Telan nodded, thankful for something to do, and turned and sprinted across the hard ground, his breath coming fast. The paralytic shock that had taken hold of him was fading now, and he could feel his arms beginning to tremble. His eyes blurred suddenly and he blinked fiercely, running around the side of the small house and throwing open the door.

Alya looked up startled as Telan ran in, her arms covered up to the elbow in flour. "What is it?" she asked. Cat peeped out from behind her mother.

"Rope," said Telan, his mind fuzzy and unclear. "I need rope."

Alya turned and took down a spare coil of rope, handing it over. "What happened, Telan?"

"The men, the ones who wanted Las, they came back." Telan was babbling now. "Well, not _they_. He came back. Only the one with the scar. I don't know, but I think he killed those other men when they wouldn't join him. He said he ended them. He said he would end Strider as well, and Las. I don't know."

Alya's hand was covering her mouth. She immediately rushed forwards and enveloped Telan in a hug. "Are you alright?" she asked frantically. "Are you hurt?"

Telan shook his head. "I'm fine Ma," he said, trying to hide the trembling in his hands. "I need to get the rope to Strider. They're both alright."

Alya nodded. "I will get your father from the fields," she said. "He will need to be here."

Telan nodded. He didn't say anymore, but turned and left, the door slamming behind him. He ran around the house and sprinted across the stony ground towards Strider, Las and the man, who was still out cold on the floor.

Strider smiled, but it was a grim smile when Telan turned up. Without speaking he took the rope from Telan and unravelled it, using it to tie the scarred man's wrist tightly together behind his back, and then his legs. As he finished the man began to come around, and twisted violently when he found he was tied up.

Telan moved back, and Strider hit the man around the head, making him reel backwards and stop moving. Strider crouched down. "Listen very carefully," he said, his voice quiet, yet as unyielding as stone. "You do not know who I am. You do not know what you have done. I gave you a chance to turn away. And now you are here. You are tied up. I have your sword."

The man's gaze flickered down to his boots, and Strider smiled grimly. "I did not know about the dagger in your boot," he said. "But thank you." With deft hands he pulled the dagger from the man's boot, and held it out behind him.

Telan looked up as the lithe shape of the elf came forwards from where he had been leant against a tree. Las took the dagger, his piercing silver-blue eyes not leaving the man's face.

"Do you know who I am?" asked Las quietly. His voice, too, was unyielding, but there was something else in his that wasn't in Strider's, something ancient in his voice, and suddenly Telan, looking over at him, saw the elf differently. He saw for the first time what an _elf_ really was, what it was like to have lived for hundreds of years, and seen hundreds of things. He gulped.

The man shook his head. "It does not matter," he said, spitting at Las' feet. "You are-"

He was abruptly cut off when Strider grabbed the front of his shirt. "I would not continue that sentence," he said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Or I will make you stay silent."

The man wormed his way out of Strider's grip, spitting again at Strider. "You can try," he said. "But-"

That was all he managed to say. Strider, having picked up some torn pieces of the man's tunic he had used at first to tie up the man, stuffed them in his mouth and tied the pieces behind his head. He sat back on his heels, a slight smile on his face as the man spat angrily.

"I warned you," he said softly. "And I think that it does matter, very much, who this elf is, who I am. I think you will find this out."

Telan frowned, puzzled at his words, and the man spat angrily again. Strider looked over across the fields to see Henric approaching quickly. He untied the man's legs and hauled him to his feet.

"If you try and run," Strider warned him. "I will personally see to it that you end up in the darkest dungeon in Minas Tirith. I would not try it."

Henric reached them as the man staggered to his feet, going immediately to Telan. "Are you alright, son?" he asked, grasping him by the shoulders.

Telan nodded, but found he couldn't speak, and Henric drew him into a tight embrace. Las stepped forwards slightly.

"Your son was brave," he said softly. "Saved my life." He sighed slightly. "I am sorry. We seem to bring trouble wherever we go."

Henric shook his head. "That pathetic excuse for a man is not your fault," he said with a glare at the scarred man on the end of Strider's rope. "What shall happen to him?"

"Come with me," said Strider. "We'll take him into town. I can speak to whoever is in charge. They will keep him under lock and key until we reach Minas Tirith and send back soldiers for him."

Henric nodded. He looked down at Telan. "Go home, son," he said softly.

Strider looked over at Las. _"Go back with Telan_," he said quietly in the Grey Tongue.

Las shook his head. _"Mellon-nin, whenever we end up separated one of us gets hurt. I would rather go with you._"

_"I think Telan needs someone to talk to_," said Strider. _"Go with him._"

Las nodded, and stepped towards Telan. "Come," he said. "Let us go back inside."

Telan turned, and with the tall elf at his side, made his way towards the house.

_To Be Continued..._

_Well, that seems to wrap things up a little better! It looks like there will be three or four chapters after this one, with a possible epilogue. Next chapter will be up on Monday. Reviews are very welcome._


	13. Chapter 13

Just a Friend- Chapter 13

_Finally finished my exams! Did my last one today, and I am freeeee! It feels so good. Plenty more time to write fanfics now :)_

_To all those who asked about the family finding out who Las and Strider really are in reviews, my reply, that not all the family will find out, is actually wrong. With so many people asking me, I wrote a second part to the epilogue. But that is all I will say for now!_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

"I don't get it."

Las looked over at Telan, one eyebrow raised. "What do you not get?"

Telan looked up. He was sitting, knees to his chest, in front of the fire. Las was on the bed, leant back against the wall. He watched Telan carefully.

Telan sighed. "Why…" he said softly. "I don't understand why. I just…I don't get why."

Las nodded. "I think I understand. You don't get why the man was…like the way he was. Am I right?"

Telan nodded. "Aye," he murmured. "Why did he hate you?"

"I don't think he hated me," said Las calmly. "He has never met me before. I think he hates elves." He shrugged. "My race is dwindling on these shores. Before the War, before there was a Queen in Gondor, elves were almost tales to some people, legends. Some people found it easier to blame things on those they don't understand, rather than accept the harsh truth."

"How can you be so calm about this?" asked Telan, his voice rising. "It's not…It isn't…"

"Right?" asked Las softly.

Telan sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Aye," he murmured. "This isn't how it should be. This isn't how it always ends in the tales, is it?"

Las shook his head. "It is not," he said. "But then the tales…they aren't wrong, but they miss things out. All the stories do. Telan, most people won't die heroic deaths. Most people won't be remembered. Most of the stories, they miss the fact that war is bloody, and messy, and even if you win you have lost, in a way. Nobody really wins in a war. To believe otherwise is folly."

"But it shouldn't be that way!" exclaimed Telan. "It shouldn't be like that. Don't the people who fight deserve to win? Don't those in the stories deserve a life afterwards? They should be able to live happily after it is all over. They should be able to win. They deserve it, don't they?"

"They do," said Las, and his voice sounded so weary and so old to Telan, that he glanced up to check that the elf hadn't suddenly aged. Las sighed again. "Ai Valar, they do deserve it. We all do." He looked down at Telan. "For me, the war was being fought long before the final battles, seven years ago. In my home, we had been…" He trailed off, his eyes staring into the distance. "I lost a lot, Telan. And I know others who have lost even more. And I can say wholeheartedly that those I have seen, who have lost almost everything, deserve a happy ending."

"Then…" Telan trailed off, not sure what to say. "Why…Why do so many people have to die? Most of them never did anything wrong!"

Las shook his head. "So many people who didn't deserve to die end up dead," he said. "So many people who should have died stay alive. The world doesn't work like that Telan. It just doesn't."

"But it should!" exclaimed Telan.

"I know," said Las wearily. "And I am so very sorry, Telan, but it doesn't. The world doesn't play fair, as it were. It doesn't care whether or not you live."

"Then surely we should take it into our own hands?"

"And what then?" asked Las sharply. "What would we do with it? Should that man be killed because he tried to harm others? Is that the way it works?"

"I…I don't know," said Telan, hanging his head.

Las sighed. "Neither do I," he murmured.

"Then how do you do it?"

"Do what?" asked Las, his gaze falling on Telan again.

"Just…" Telan shrugged. "Strider said you were a soldier for hundreds of years, that you have been fighting for far longer than he has. How did you keep going, all those years?"

Las frowned slightly. "I never really knew," he murmured. "I only knew that people were depending on me. Do not misread my words, Telan. The world doesn't play fair, but that does not mean we can give up, and throw our weapons down like a child, disgraced at how it is. Time and time again, I had to pick myself up off the bloody floor and tell myself that I have to keep going, because it was the only way, the only thing I could do, to try and make things slightly better. The only way to make the world a little bit fairer."

"But…" Telan frowned. "Weren't you afraid of dying?"

"I was," said Las calmly. "And I came close a few times. But if you die, you die, and there is nothing anyone can do about that. I am sorry, Telan, because you want answers, and these answers are not the ones you are looking for." Las leant forwards, his bright gaze falling on Telan.

"The world is not fair. But it is not cruel, either. It is simply the world we live in." Las smiled slightly. "But there are things worth fighting for in this world. Sometimes it is best to ignore the bigger picture, forget that you are not important to the world. Pick something you love, and defend it with all that you have."

Las paused slightly, his hand going to his neck, where the man had tried to choke him. "Even if you know you are going to fail, you can try anyway. And who knows? Maybe you will even win. Just because the world isn't fair, doesn't mean you have to give up on it."

0-o-0-o-0

The door to the cottage creaked open, and Telan looked up to see Strider and his father walk in. Strider's gaze flickered to the bed where Las was.

"He fell asleep a while ago," said Alya, who was hanging clothes up above the fire. "He still seems pretty tired."

Strider crouched down quietly beside Las, who was slumped on his side, his eyes half open. He gently touched the elf's forehead, and seemingly happy with what he found, turned back to Henric.

"I am sorry," he said softly. "I am sorry for bringing this on you and your family. I never meant to."

"I know," said Henric sadly. "You only wanted to save your friend. I cannot fault you on that. You are not the person who is to blame for those men in the town."

Telan stirred. "What happened to the man, Da?" he asked quietly. "What did you do with him?"

"I had words with those in charge in the town," said Strider. "They are holding the man, until we send soldiers from Minas Tirith."

"Does that mean you are leaving?" asked Telan softly. He didn't want Strider to go.

"Aye, my horse is outside," said Strider. "I brought him back from the town. I want to get Las back to the city soon, and then I will send soldiers back to fetch the man, and search for the others. I promise."

"Will you ever come back?" asked Telan. The words slipped from his mouth, and they sounded childish and pleading to his ears.

Strider smiled, and reached over to gently shake Las' shoulder to wake him up. "I don't know, Telan," he said. "Probably not."

Las grimaced and rolled over, smiling slightly as he saw Strider's worried face. "Are you…alright?" he rasped.

Strider raised one eyebrow. "I should be asking you that question, _mellon-nin_," he said, tilting Las' head back to look at the slight bruising around his throat. "How do you feel."

"I am fine," said Las, pushing Strider's hand away. Strider simply looked at him, and the elf sighed. "Throat hurts…" he said. "But nothing different from past times."

Strider nodded. "Hasufel is outside," he said. "We'll head back now."

Las nodded, and stood up, swaying ever so slightly. "I am sorry," he said to Henric and Alya as he swung the dark green cloak that Strider had handed him over his shoulders. "I am sorry for the past few days." He reached down and picked up his weapons.

Cat peeped out from underneath the table. "Are you magic?" she suddenly asked.

"Cat!" exclaimed Telan. "This is not the time."

"But they are leaving soon," said Cat with a pout. "I won't get another chance to ask."

Las laughed ever so slightly, the sound hoarse in his throat. "I am not, _penneth_," he said softly. "I have no magic. I am simply an elf." He looked over at Henric.

"Again, I am sorry," he said. "But I thank you, all of you," his gaze falling on Alya and Telan. "I am in your debt."

Strider moved over to the door and held it open. "We should go," he said to Las. "We must return to Minas Tirith."

Las nodded, and he went outside with Strider to the horse waiting there. Las smiled and held out his hand, and Telan watched with faint amazement as the horse first sniffed his hand, and then butted his head happily against the elf, as if in greetings. Las laughed slightly and the horse nickered, pushing into the elf's chest with his nose. He hung his quiver, knives and bow on the saddle carefully.

Strider smiled, and Telan saw how when he smiled it was as if he was a different person, the worried lines falling away from around his eyes. He took the horse's bridle, and then had a swift and muttered conversation in the Grey Tongue with Las that resulted in a grimace from the elf, and Strider helping to boost him up into the saddle.

Las swayed slightly as he settled in the saddle, his face pale. Instantly Strider put his foot in the stirrup and sprang into the saddle, sitting behind the elf and steadying him. The horse shifted underneath him.

"Easy, Hasufel," murmured Strider, gathering up the reins. Telan looked over the horse. He was a real horse, a real soldier's horse, built for charging into battle, not parading through streets.

"Where did you get him?" he asked, almost in amazement as he watched Hasufel snort and paw at the ground. The horse's body seemed tensed, like an arrow ready to fly.

Strider smiled. "He is a warhorse of Rohan," he replied. "He was my horse throughout the war." Hasufel shifted again, and Strider touched on the reins. Las, leant back against Strider, put out a hand and gently touched Hasufel's neck. The horse stilled immediately.

"My thanks, again," said Strider to Henric and Alya. "I am sorry."

"Don't be," said Alya. "We were glad to help."

Strider nodded. "Keep practising your sword work, Telan," he said.

"Who with?" asked Telan, his voice a little disappointed as he looked up at Strider.

Strider's gaze flickered to Henric. "Your lad is brave," he said to Henric. "And he is a fair swordsman, for an afternoon of practise. If he keeps practising, he could be good. Very good."

Henric nodded. "Alright then, Telan," he said. "We will practise." He nodded at Strider. "I should thank you as well," he said. "For dealing with those men."

Strider shook his head. "I will send soldiers from Minas Tirith as soon as we get back," he said. Hasufel snorted and shifted impatiently again, and Strider turned him around with a light touch on the reins. Las looked back over his shoulder.

"My thanks," he said. Strider touched his heels to Hasufel and the horse moved off, picking up speed until he was cantering down the track, away from the house and the family that stood outside.

Telan watched Hasufel canter away until he could no longer make out the man and elf sitting together on his back. Even then he watched, until the horse disappeared. He sighed, and turned to go back inside.

_To Be Continued..._

_Well, is it all over now? There are three more chapters, so maybe not..._

_Next chapter will be up some time on Wednesday. I am not sure when, because that is the day of my prom._


	14. Chapter 14

Just a Friend- Chapter 14

_Next chapter! There will be two more after this, though the epilogue may be split in two._

_I own Belhadron. That will make more sense after reading this chapter, but he is mine. I am planning to involve him in more stories with Legolas._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1, but I own Belhadron._

Telan yawned as he rolled over, his arm dangling over the mattress.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since Cat had found an unconscious elf in the woods. Two weeks since they had brought him home. Two weeks since everything had happened, since Strider had turned up at their door. Since those men had as well.

The man was still in the town. The soldiers had not come yet. Telan had heard Henric voice his doubts, about whether they could ever come. Yet he still hoped. It had only been two weeks. It took days to get to Minas Tirith from here, and Telan didn't know how long it would have taken Strider to convince those in charge in the city to send soldiers.

He yawned again and sat up, the blanket falling from his shoulders. Cat was asleep next to him, and he carefully rearranged the blanket over her as he got off the mattress, smiling slightly as she mumbled something and turned over. Stretching, he grinned as his stiff muscles protested. He had spent the afternoon yesterday sparring with Da, and was sore from it already.

He opened the door and padded into the other room in the cottage, yawning yet again. Alya was already awake, stirring a bowl over the fire. She glanced up as Telan came in and sat down at the small table, rolling his shoulders to get rid of the aches in them.

"Where's Da?" Telan asked, one hand rubbing his neck absentmindedly.

"Sit up straighter," said Alya in reply, pointing a spoon covered in porridge at Telan. "Slouching isn't good for you."

Telan grinned and sat up straighter. "Where is he?"

"Out getting more firewood from the shelter behind the house," said Alya. "We were running low."

Just then the door opened and Henric came through, stamping the mud off his boots before dumping the logs in a corner. "Ground's getting drier," he said gruffly. "Soon should dry out from those rains we had."

"Any signs of the soldier?s" asked Telan hopefully. He still hadn't given up on the idea that Strider would come back.

"Nothing," said Henric, a slightly sympathetic look as he smiled at Telan. "I wouldn't hold out much hope for Strider coming back, son."

Telan grimaced, but nodded. "I know," he said. "But I have gotten so much better since he left! I just want him to see."

"I know," said Henric, ruffling Telan's hair. Telan ducked out of the way with a scowl.

"Da!" he exclaimed. "I'm too old for that!"

"You are only thirteen," replied Henric. "You're never too old for your old Da to ruffle your hair."

Alya smiled. "Here," she said, placing a bowl of hot steaming porridge in front of Telan. "And here's some honey." She grabbed a pot and put it on the table. "I bought it yesterday. Might as well eat it now."

Telan grinned, and dolloped the honey onto the porridge, stirring it vigorously with his spoon. He took a mouthful, and then gasped, nearly spitting it out. "It's…hot," he said through a mouthful of porridge.

Alya laughed softly. "Aye, of course it is," she said. "It's come straight from the pot, Telan. You ought to be more careful, or you will burn your mouth."

Telan shook his head. "I'm fine, Ma," he said.

Henric looked around. "Is Cat awake yet?"

Telan shook his head. "She's fast asleep, as usual. Dreaming away."

Alya smiled. "Watch the pot, love," she said. "I'll go wake Cat." She turned and slipped into the other room.

Telan grinned at Henric. "More practice today, Da?" he asked through another mouthful of porridge.

Henric chuckled. "Only if your shoulders aren't too stiff," he said. "I saw you rolling them as I came in."

"Oh, they're not too bad," said Telan. "I'll be fine. I want to practise! I want to be the best swordsman ever!"

Henric smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I hope you never have to fight someone in a real fight, son," he said softly. "You should not fight because you like fighting. You should fight to protect those who can't fight for themselves."

"I know," said Telan. "And I want to do that."

"Aye," said Henric. "And I suppose it is not up to me whether or not you become a soldier. I just want to spare you some of the pain I had to deal with when I was a soldier. I don't like the idea, but I guess you have a few years to decide. But Telan," Henric said with a sigh. "If being a soldier is something you really want to be, I won't stop you."

"Thanks Da!" exclaimed Telan.

"But don't decide now," said Henric. "Eat your porridge instead."

Telan took another mouthful, but he had barely had time to chew the sweet porridge, sticky with honey, before he heard the clattering of hooves outside on the track going past their home, and raised voices.

Henric opened the door, and Telan saw how suddenly his body relaxed and his face broke out in a small smile. Telan got up, "What is it?" he asked, coming to the door.

He looked out from under Henric's arm, and suddenly smiled. "They came!" he exclaimed, pushing his way out of the door and outside the house. "They're here!"

The sun, having pushed its way out from behind the clouds, was glinting off the helms and bridles of the soldiers making their way down the track. As Telan watched, the two horses in the lead peeled off and began to canter towards them.

Telan's face lit up as he saw the face of one of the riders. "Las!" he cried out, running forwards slightly. The horses pulled up and stood, the rest of the soldiers waiting on the track for them.

Las swung himself easily off his horse, patting his horse's neck absentmindedly as Telan made his way to him. The other rider stayed seated, and as Telan glanced up, he saw another elf, the second one he had ever seen. This one had dark hair, though, and his eyes were also dark, nearly black. But despite this, he looked like someone who laughed a little too much, and as Telan gazed up at him in slight wonder, he smiled, genuinely, before turning to Las and saying something in the lyrical tongue that Strider had also used. Telan heard Las' name, though mentioned rather scornfully.

Las looked over at him and answered in the same tongue, laughing. He then switched back to Westron with a roll of his eyes.

"Belhadron, there is no need to laugh at that. Honestly, I don't know why I made you my second all those years ago."

The elf called Belhadron chuckled. "Because your father needed someone to scrape you off the ground after battles, and you needed someone to take your place at meetings."

Las chuckled, and then he turned back to Telan. Henric had now joined them, and Las bowed, one hand over his heart. "Greetings," he said to Henric. "We have picked up the man from the town, and will return him to Minas Tirith to face judgement."

Telan looked behind the two elves and their horses and saw the man, his hands securely bound, tied to one of the saddles of the soldiers. His legs, from what it looked like, were hobbled, so he could walk, but not run.

Las followed his gaze. "Aye, he will not trouble anyone again. The other two men are dead, by his hand. We made sure of that."

Telan nodded. "Is Strider here?" he asked hopefully, his gaze searching the soldiers on the track.

"Strider?" questioned the other elf, Bel-something or other, thought Telan.

Las turned and said something briefly in the other tongue that had the other elf chuckling again. Las smiled, and turned back to Telan. "I am sorry," he said. "But Strider was not able to come."

Telan nodded. "It's alright," he said, though he was disappointed.

Henric coughed. "I hope you are recovered, Las," he said gruffly.

Las smiled and nodded. "I am, thanks to all of you," he said. "But I am afraid I cannot stay long. We must return to the city, and it will take a day or two to make it back."

Telan nodded. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked. He still had little idea of who the elf was, why he had been in the woods, and why he had been unconscious and poisoned.

Las shrugged. "Who knows?" he asked. "You may. How has the sword practice been going?"

Telan blushed as Henric clapped his shoulder and answered. "He is getting better and better," his father said, and Telan was surprised to hear the hint of pride in his voice.

"Do you still want to be a soldier?" asked Las.

Telan nodded. "I think so," he said. "I do. I want to fight for Gondor."

Las nodded. He turned back to his horse and pulled something out of a saddlebag. Turning back to Telan, and only rolling his eyes slightly at the other elf's comment, he handed the object to Telan.

Telan turned it over in his hands. It was a metal disc, something that could be put on a bridle or saddle, or to pin a cloak in place, as there was a metal pin at the top. On one side there was a stamped insignia that Telan recognised, for it was the symbol of the white tree and the seven stars, the symbol of Gondor and the King. But on the other side was an insignia that neither Telan nor Henric recognised, the white tree below a bird spreading its wings, with the rays of a rising sun behind them. It was similar to the symbol of Gondor, but not the same.

Las looked at Telan. "If you ever want to come to Minas Tirith, if you ever want to serve as a soldier, come and present that to any soldier in the courtyard. Tell them…" Las paused for a second. "Tell them you were given to it by a blond elf. They will know what to do."

Telan's eyes were wide. "Thank you," he breathed.

Las nodded, and turned back to his horse, easily swinging himself on top. The grey stallion pawed at the ground and snorted, and Telan was reminded of Strider's horse, Hasufel. Las smiled as he saw Telan looking.

"This is Arod," he said. "Another horse of Rohan." He turned Arod around and Belhadron followed suit. Both elves looked back over his shoulder and nodded at Telan and Henric.

Belhadron spoke first. "I want to thank you," he said to Henric and Telan. He had a heavier accent than Las, his voice lilting as he spoke. "For saving the life of my captain and friend. I am in your debt."

Henric nodded, not sure what to say. Las smiled softly.

"My thanks," he said. "I hope to see you in Minas Tirith one day, Telan. I know you will be a fine swordsman. I wish you all the luck, you and your family." With one last nod at them, Las pushed his heels into Arod and together, he and Belhadron cantered back to the soldiers waiting on the track. The company began to move off, and as they rounded the corner and began to move out of sight, Las raised one hand in farewell.

Telan raised his hand in response, and stood there until, yet again, the horses were out of sight, beyond the horizon. He lowered his hand slowly.

Henric smiled slightly at his son. How much he had seemed to have grown, in such a small amount of time. He gently patted Telan on the shoulder.

"Do you want to practise?" he asked.

Telan nodded, slipping the metal disc into his pocket. "I shall fetch the swords."

_To Be Continued..._

_As always, reviews are most welcome. Next chapter will be up on Friday._


	15. Chapter 15

Just a Friend- Chapter 15

_Here it is, the moment that Telan finds out who Las and Strider really are (in case it isn't clear, this is set three years from the previous chapter). I am a bit nervous about this chapter, because so many have asked about this moment of revelation for Telan, so I hope this lives up to people's expectations!_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1, but I own Belhadron._

Now Telan's hand slipped back into his pocket to grasp hold of the metal disc. It was worn now, tarnished, but the insignias on it, of Gondor and the one he didn't know, where still recognisable. Taking his hand out of his pocket, he let it stray to the long knife in his belt. His father had given it to him, before he had left.

"Here," Henric had said. "You may not have a sword, but you can use a knife just as well. Keep safe."

Telan had nodded, hugged his mother and father, and then bent down to hug Cat tightly, before pulling his sack over his shoulder and leaving the house.

It had been nearly three years since his little sister had found an unconscious elf in the woods. Two weeks less since the elf, Las, had returned to their home, handed Telan the metal disc, and had told him if he ever wanted to be a soldier, to present it to any guard in the courtyard of Minas Tirith.

Which was exactly what Telan was going to do. He was sixteen, grown up now, and understood the world far more than his thirteen year old self had, the one who had rocked in front of a fire and questioned an elf as to why the world wasn't fair.

Of course, he understood why now. He understood that life wasn't fair. But, with a satisfied grin, he knew he could do a little to make it a bit fairer. He could be a soldier, a warrior for Gondor. He could fight back.

His fingers drummed on the hilt of his knife again, and he could barely suppress the nervousness and excitement in him. Every step he took he came closer to Minas Tirith.

He was good with a sword now. He could disarm his father now, though not quickly. He still could learn a lot. He still wanted to learn a lot.

And then, as he kept walking, the distant city became closer and closer, and more and more real. Telan could see the great gates eventually, half open to allow people in. The sun glinted off the mithril and steel that the dwarves had crafted as Telan drew closer and closer to the city.

Eventually he stepped into the shadow of the city, the great outer walls gleaming above his head. Telan gulped and walked forwards towards the gates, hitching up his pack on his shoulders. Finally, he was here. He had arrived.

He joined a small group of people entering the city, suppressing a smile as he walked through the great gates that towered above him. He was finally here!

The courtyard was huge, the gravel crunching under Telan's feet as he stepped forwards. White stone gleamed around them, though in a place or two there were still scorch marks from fires in the siege that had claimed so many lives.

A fountain stood in the middle of the courtyard, and a statue opposite the gate of a long dead king astride his horse. The fountain looked new, however, and as Telan approached it, he saw an inscription carved into the pillar of the fountain. Looking closer, a faint lump appeared in his throat as he realised it was not just a fountain. It was a memorial as well, a reminder of all those who had died in the war, be it outside the gates of Minas Tirith, or far away in the north, outside Erebor, or outside the Black Gate. There had not been enough space for all the names.

Telan turned away, his hand closing around the metal disc as he looked for a soldier. A few were standing by the gate, and he approached them cautiously, pulling the disc out of his pocket.

One guard looked up as Telan approached and pulled away from the others. "What is it, boy?" he asked, not unkindly. "Do you know where it is you want to go?"

Telan shook his head, and held out his hand, holding the metal disc. "I was given this by a blond elf," he said as the guard took it. "An elf that I knew by the name of Las, but I think that wasn't his actual name. He said if I should ever want to be a soldier for Gondor, to come here and to hand this to any soldier. He said they would know what to do."

The soldier turned the disc over in his hands, frowning. "I am not high up enough to know exactly what to do," he said. "But this…" He looked up at Telan. "What is your name?"

"I am Telan, from a village on the outskirts of Gondor," replied Telan. Panic surged up in him, a sudden worry as the soldier frowned again, before looking up.

"Wait here," he told Telan. He strode off across the courtyard and Telan stood there, watching nervously. The soldier went over and intercepted another man crossing the courtyard. This other man was dressed in greens and browns, and Telan recognised, from all those years ago, the colours of the rangers.

The soldier had a brief conversation with the ranger, and showed him the metal disc. Instantly the ranger's eyes looked over at Telan, and Telan fought an impulse to look away nervously. He kept watching as the ranger, followed by the soldier, came over to him.

"I take it you want to be a soldier, boy?" asked the ranger, coming to stand in front of Telan. He was tall, taller than Telan, with dark hair falling around his face. A sword was at his hip, and a quiver strapped to his back.

Telan nodded. "Aye," he said. "I have learnt to fight a bit. My father taught me. He was a soldier during the war."

The ranger nodded. "I am Beregond," he said. "Captain of Lord Faramir's guard. Normally we do not simply take in boys who come to ask us to be soldiers, but this…" He took the disc and held it up. "This changes things. You say a blond elf by the name of Las gave it to you, and told you to bring it here if you wanted to be a soldier?"

Telan nodded, and Beregond frowned. "Where did you meet this elf?"

"It was three years ago," said Telan. "My younger sister found him, unconscious, in the woods. We took him home and my Ma looked after him. He had been poisoned. He was getting worse when a man turned up, a friend of the elf. He looked after him until he was better."

"Aye, and do you know any of their names?" asked Beregond.

Telan blushed slightly. "I don't think they are their real names," he said. "But the elf was called Las, and the man called himself Strider."

The ranger stiffened. "Strider?" he asked. "And he was friends with the elf?"

"Aye," said Telan. "He healed him using…kingsfoil, I think, and they seemed to be best friends."

Beregond frowned. "I think I can safely say you are welcome here, Telan," he said, smiling slightly as a grin began to spread across Telan's face.

Telan nodded. "My thanks-" he began, but was cut off by the clear call of a trumpet from the walkway above the gate, and a voice ringing out.

"Riders approaching!" it called, and people in the courtyard began to move more hurriedly. Beregond grabbed Telan's arm, handing him back the metal disc. "Come with me," he said. "We need to get out the way."

The other soldier ran back to the gate and heaved the other half open with his fellow men, and Telan and Beregond stood by the side of the open gates, waiting. Before long Telan could hear the pounding of hooves as horses approached, and then a herald above the gate cried out again.

"Make way!" he called. "Make way for the Lord of Ithilien!"

Telan's heart leapt up into his throat as suddenly horses burst through the gates and into the courtyard, the pounding changing to a clattering as they cantered in across the stones. The horses circled the fountain as they slowed, pulling up and eventually coming to a stop. The sound of snorting and pawing hooves filled the courtyard.

One horse pushed forwards and Beregond stepped forwards as the rider approached. From where Telan stood, in an alcove he had been pressed back into as the horses thundered past, he could not see the rider.

Beregond bowed. "My Lord," he said in greetings. "It has been too long since you were last in Ithilien."

Telan stiffened as a strangely familiar voice answered the ranger. "Beregond, it is good to see you," said the voice. "Is Faramir in the city?"

"He is not," said Beregond. "He rode north to Cair Andros this morning. Something about the…" He sighed. "I am not sure." He chuckled. "They are still looking through the old archives in Osgiliath and Minas Tirith, and Lord Faramir has been…very interested." Beregond chuckled.

The voice laughed. "I am sure Faramir will return soon," he said. "I was planning on staying for a few days anyway. I need to talk to Faramir. Eowyn has asked me to convince him to spend less time in the archives, and more time in the open air."

This time Beregond laughed. "She can try," he said with a chuckle. "How are you faring in Ithilien?"

"Well," said the voice that Telan was so sure he recognised. "The trees are responding more and more."

"Aye, well they would," said Beregond, "if there is a colony of elves living amongst them."

Elves! The word jolted Telan's memory and he suddenly remembered who the voice belonged to. He ran out of the alcove to see Beregond talking to a blond elf astride a grey horse. Telan's face lit up as he saw the elf.

"Las!" he cried out, and both the elf and Beregond turned to him in surprise. Telan halted as Las frowned slightly, panic welling in him.

And then the elf suddenly smiled, vaulting off his horse easily, and moving forwards. "Telan?" he asked.

"Aye, it is me," said Telan with a grin. He held out the metal disc. "You told me to come if I ever wanted to be a soldier."

"That I did," said Las thoughtfully, taking the disc and turning it over in his hands. Telan waited nervously. What if Las did not have enough power in the city to do this? What if he had to go back home?

"So this is Las?" asked Beregond. "The elf your sister found unconscious in the woods?"

"Aye," said Telan warily, not sure where this was going. To his surprise Beregond laughed.

"Did you not tell him?" he asked the elf, a large grin across his face. He kept laughing, and leant against Las' horse with one hand. The horse stepped away with an indignant horse and Beregond chuckled again. "Sorry, Arod," he said. "But he did not know? You did not tell him?"

Las sighed. "No, we did not," he said. "We thought it to be better." He chuckled. "And you can stop laughing, Beregond. We thought it would be less…awkward if we did not tell them."

"Wait, tell me what?" asked Telan, thoroughly confused. He looked back and forth from Las and Beregond.

Las turned back to Telan. "I am sorry to have lied to you, when we first met," he said. "Las is not my name. It is a name invented for me, to keep my identity hidden. So was Strider's name, though that name he had used for a long time."

He sighed. "My real name is Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood, Lord of Ithilien, and one of the Nine Walkers."

Telan's mouth dropped open, and he immediately fell to one knee. "My…My Lord," he stammered. He had had the Lord of Ithilien lying in a bed in his house! He had…He had had one of the Fellowship in his house! He…he needed to write a letter to his parents and tell them this. "Forgive me..."

Legolas laughed slightly, pulling Telan to his feet. "No, it was us who deceived you," he said. "You did nothing that needs forgiving, Telan. I am only grateful. But we had to hide who we were, just in case."

Beregond held up a hand. "When was this?" he asked. "What happened?" He looked back and forth between the elf and Telan, struggling to hold back a snort of laughter when he saw Telan's face, his eyes wide in shock, and his mouth still hanging open as he stared at Legolas.

"Do you remember?" asked Legolas. "When I went missing, about three years ago? Arod turned up riderless and my weapons were found by a patrol."

Beregond nodded. "When you had been attacked by men," he said slowly. "Brandishing orcish weapons. I remember. Lord Aragorn left the city to look for you, and you both turned up two weeks later. And then you left again for a few days, before returning from the same place, I think?"

"Aye," said Legolas. "With one of the men in tow, if you recall. I remember you were in the city with Faramir at the time." He chuckled as he remembered that day. As soon as he had ridden into the city Aragorn had come down to meet him, still worried over him. Faramir and Beregond had been in the citadel when Legolas had arrived, and he had met them there, whilst persuading Belhadron, his second in command, to not mention the events to Thranduil.

Beregond chuckled. "I remember. Lord Aragorn was rather angry when he saw that man. I am still not completely convinced he didn't want him dead, but I suppose the man is more useful doing forced labour in the fields than dead." He turned his gaze to Telan. "This is the boy from the family?"

"Aye," said Legolas, turning to look at Telan. "He saved my life."

Telan's jaw was wide open. "So…" he managed to stutter out. "Strider is…"

"King Elessar Telcontar of Gondor and Arnor," said Legolas. "Aye, he is."

"But…" Telan frowned. "He taught me…sword fighting!" He didn't know what to say, or what to do. If felt as if his lungs couldn't get enough air into them, and he breathed deeply, his mouth open. Imagine what his family would say! Imagine what Cat would think. After all, she lived for tales of Kings and Princes, and they had had both of them in their home at the same time. He needed to write them a letter.

Beregond raised his eyebrows. "Now I have no doubt about taking him on as a soldier," he said. "If Lord Aragorn taught him, he will be excellent."

"It was only one morning," said Legolas. "But aye, Telan, I will not break my promise. You have a place here now, if you would like it."

It took Telan a while to close his mouth, he was so shocked. "Aye…" he managed to say. "I have kept practising…my Lord. I want to be a soldier."

"More than a soldier," said Beregond gruffly. "I will pull some strings. After training, I will try and get you assigned to the rangers, maybe, or the citadel guard. Special circumstances, seeing as you saved the life of the Lord of Ithilien, and more importantly, Thranduil's son."

Telan frowned in confusion, and Legolas laughed. "He means nothing by it, Telan," he said. "Although," he said to Beregond, "I am still glad news of what happened did not reach my father for a while. I knew if he was told too soon, he would browbeat Aragorn into handing the man over." Legolas laughed, and turned back to Telan. "I will speak with Aragorn, or Strider as you know him."

A voice called out from the slowly dissipating mass of horses in the courtyard and a dark haired elf rode forwards, the one that Telan had met all those years ago, when Las- no, Legolas, had returned. The horse snorted as the elf moved up behind Legolas with a grin.

"Legolas, we have to go," he said, his lilting accent just as Telan remembered, if a little less pronounced. "The streets will be busy, and you know Estel gets irritated if we are late." The elf rolled his eyes. "Again."

Legolas laughed. "Belhadron, that was your fault last time, so you cannot blame me. But aye, you are right. And Eldarion is now at the age when he will not stay still for more than a minute. No doubt Arwen is already looking for him." He looked over at Telan. "Do you remember Telan?" he asked. "From the time I went missing three years ago, and Aragorn rode out to find me."

Belhadron moved his horse forwards. "Aye, I remember," he said, looking at Telan with narrowed eyes. "The young boy who wants to be a soldier."

Telan grinned sheepishly. "Aye, that is me," he said nervously. Belhadron looked at him for a moment longer, before turning to Legolas and saying something in rapid elvish. Legolas laughed in return and grinned at Belhadron.

Belhadron smiled at Telan, but still Telan was slightly wary of him. It was like there was something else about him, something almost more feral, deep down in his eyes. He repressed a shudder as he wondered how many things had died because of this elf. But then when he looked again, looked closer at the dark-haired elf, he saw the merriness in his eyes, and the laughter that could easily come from his lips. Telan smiled back.

"You are welcome here, Telan," said Belhadron, his lips curved in a smile. "For what you did for my captain and friend, all those years ago. Yet I am afraid we must leave you now. Legolas, we must go."

Legolas shook his head. "When was it you became more prompt than me, _mellon-nin_?" He turned to Beregond. "Will you show Telan his place here? You are most welcome, Telan. I look forward to seeing you in the city."

Beregond nodded, and Legolas smiled at Telan as he vaulted back on his horse. "I am glad to see you here," he said, turning Arod back into the courtyard. Telan watched as together the two elves rode forwards up the street of the city, heading for the gate up to the second level. The rest of the soldiers followed them, and in a second they were gone, the clattering of hooves echoing through the city.

Beregond looked Telan in the eye. "Come," he said. "I will show you to the barrack where those training to be soldiers stay, and arrange for someone to show you around the city." He smiled slightly as they began to walk out of the courtyard. "I think you will like it here, Telan."

Telan nodded. "Aye," he said softly. In his mind, he could still see Legolas unconscious in the bed, Strider kneeling next to him. Then, Telan had had no idea that the King of Gondor and the Lord of Ithilien had been in their home. At the time, they had just been two friends.

_To Be Continued..._

_Just an epilogue to go, but it will now be in two parts. Next time, the rest of the family will find out! As always, reviews are very welcome._


	16. Epilogue Part 1

Just a Friend- Epilogue Part 1

_The first part of the epilogue- the rest of the family will find out who Las and Strider really are!_

_Thank you for all the reviews and wonderful comments- I am really glad the last chapter worked out really well for everyone._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

Two weeks later, the same day that Telan got up early to train in the yard with the other boys, Henric swung open the door of their home and came inside to the sound of Cat crying.

He sighed. "Again?" he asked softly. Alya looked up from where she sat beside the fire with Cat, gently stroking her hair. Cat sniffed, looking over at her father with teary eyes.

"Sorry, Da," she whispered through hiccupping breaths.

Henric smiled sympathetically and moved over, pulling his nine year old daughter to her feet. "It's alright, kitten," he said. "We all miss him."

Alya smiled up at Henric, but Henric noticed the misty eyes and the redness that meant she may have already been crying. Henric sighed softly. Telan had been gone for two weeks.

He missed him, of course, but nothing can come close to how a mother misses their son when they leave. Henric had always known the house would prove to be too small for Telan, especially after everything that happened three years ago, with the elf. He knew he would leave. He suspected Alya had never quite let go of the idea that Telan would stay around forever.

And Cat… Cat had adored her big brother, again, especially after all the happenings with the elf, Las? Aye, Las. And Strider, the strange man. Even after three years, Henric still dwelled on those few days. Somehow he knew that there was more to it than he had ever been told. He wondered if Telan knew anything.

Henric cleared his throat. "I just came from the town hall," he said, stoking the fire in the grate. A month or so after Las had returned, soldiers and workers had arrived and had helped to rebuild the town, strengthening the buildings and improving the tracks to and from town. The town had grown over the three years, and now the family lived in the actual town itself, Henric working as a builder and Alya with an evening job in the inn. Life had gotten surprisingly better since Cat had found Las in those woods, three years ago.

"Anything interesting?" asked Alya, sitting back down and pulling Cat back into her arms. The nine year old girl sniffed, before pushing her hair back out of her face and smiling up at Henric, even if the smile was a little small.

"A letter," said Henric. "Came with a patrol that came through a day ago." The town was now used frequently by soldiers and people from Minas Tirith, having been connected to one of the main roads through Gondor. Henric reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled it out, waving it in the air.

"Who's it from?" asked Cat, her childish face suddenly lit up with excitement and hope. Henric smiled and nodded, and a grin erupted on his daughter's face. She jumped out of Alya's lap with a squeal.

"It's from Telan, isn't it? He promised he'd write!"

Henric chuckled. "Aye, it is," he said. "I haven't read it yet."

"Are you sure?" murmured Alya, standing up and coming to look at the letter. "Telan doesn't know how to write well enough to send a letter." Henric handed the letter over and she turned it over, seeing the scratchy writing on the back. She grinned. "It is from him," he murmured. "It is!"

"Open it!" squealed Cat, dancing up and grabbing the letter out of Alya's hands. She pulled it open, breaking the seal on it easily. "What does it say?" Cat asked, thrusting it at Henric. "What does it say?"

Henric laughed and handed the letter to Alya, who had learnt to read when working with the healers in Minas Tirith. "Here, love," he said. "Your eyesight is better than mine."

Alya took it and began to read out loud.

"_Dear Ma and Da," _it read. _"And of course Cat."_

_"I am speaking this to one of my friends, who is teaching me to write. My writing is not good enough yet to write this letter, but you made me promise to send one._

_I am in Minas Tirith, and am training to be a soldier. I spend most of my day learning how to fight, to ride, to stand in formation and obey orders. Any time I am not properly training, I am getting fitter, running errands around the city. The streets are wide and white, and it takes a long time to run anywhere. But I am getting quicker._

_The disc Las gave me worked. I got to the city five days ago, and handed the disc to a soldier. He handed it to another soldier, called Beregond, who is the captain of the Steward's guard. He was about to do something when a bunch of riders rode into the courtyard of Minas Tirith._

_Anyway, that was when things got strange. Las was one of the riders, coming in from Ithilien, I think. But his name isn't Las. You are never going to believe this! It turns out that Las and Strider were lying the whole time about who they were."_

Alya stopped reading and scanned the next few lines. A sudden burst of laughter escaped her lips as she read it, and Henric looked at her, puzzled. "What is it?" he asked. "What does he write?"

Cat pouted and tugged on the hem of Alya's skirt. "What?" she demanded. Alya laughed again, tipping her head back and laughing out loud. She handed the letter to Henric, and he struggled to read through the lines on the page.

His jaw dropped open. "No," he murmured softly. "No!" He started to chuckle along with Alya, and caught her eye. "I knew they weren't telling us everything, but this…! Ha!"

"I…I can't believe it," said Alya. "That…that can't be real."

"It makes sense, though," said Henric, a wide grin on his face. "The fancy weapons and clothing, their conversations in that other tongue, Strider's pull with the town mayor, his skills in fighting, their stories, even the way both of them spoke!" He laughed again. "How could we not spot that?"

Cat, feeling very left out of the conversation, tugged on Alya's hem again. "What is it?" she asked with a pout. "I want to know!"

Alya crouched down so she was level with Cat. "You remember Strider and Las, don't you?" she asked.

"Of course!" said Cat. "I found Las first."

"I know," said Alya with a smile, tucking a strand of Cat's hair behind her ear. "But it seems that those aren't their real names, kitten."

"What?" asked Cat. "What are their names? Who were they?"

"It seems Telan found out," said Henric, his hand resting on Alya's shoulder. He smiled. "I can't believe it."

"What?" asked Cat, stomping her foot on the floor. "Tell me!"

A moment later a high pitched squeal came from inside the house, followed by the sound of tentative, and then full blown laughter. The laughter continued for quite some time, until it petered out, followed by the sound of all three voices talking at once.

Who would have known they had taken in the King of Gondor and the Prince of Mirkwood?

_To Be Continued..._

_Only the second part of the epilogue to go- a final conversation between Legolas and Aragorn. As always, reviews are very welcome._


	17. Epilogue Part 2

Just a Friend- Epilogue Part 2

_The final instalment of Just a Friend, a slightly sappy and sweet epilogue to wrap it up. Then that is it! I have a oneshot about Glorfindel that will be published in a week or so, and then hopefully I will have finished the rather large story I am working on right now. It is looking to be quite long, though, and I have not yet reached halfway, so it may be a while. But don't worry, I promise that I will keep publishing stories, even if I do go silent for a few weeks._

_I want to say thank you so much to everyone who had read, and more importantly, reviewed this fanfic. You have completely overwhelmed me with your responses, when I was never that confident in this story. It really does mean a lot to me, that you would take the time to tell me what you think, whether you like it or not, or anything you want to say about it. At the moment this has 145 reviews, which is the largest number I have ever had on a story. Thank you._

_Because this has made me very happy, I have a little treat for you at the end of the story that you will hopefully enjoy. Please remember, if you kill me because of the cliffie, there will be no-one to publish the entire story. Alright? I'm going to go hide now._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

A shadow stood amongst other shadows on the edge of the courtyard, watching. The air was full with the sound of clashing swords as the boys in the yard trained.

It was early in the morning, and the sun had only just risen, bathing the lower levels of the white city in sunlight. It glinted off the tips of the swords as the pairs of boys sparred, moving backwards and forth across the yard. An older man stood at the other end of the yard, watching carefully and occasionally shouting instructions.

The shadow moved forwards slightly, the older man catching his eye. The trainer nodded at the shadow as it leant against a wall, and the shadow nodded back. His eyes flitted back to the boys training in the yard, falling on one tall boy, his dark hair falling across his face and sticking to his forehead with sweat as he fought back against the other boy.

Another shadow joined the first as they watched. Legolas smiled. "See," he said. "I told you he would continue practising."

"Did you?" asked Aragorn, running a hand through his hair. "I forget, _mellon-nin_. But it is good to see Telan here. I am glad he came."

"Aye," said Legolas. He smiled in approval as Telan twisted his sword and his opponent's blade flew out of their hand. Telan stooped, picked it up and handed it back. They began again.

"He is good," said Aragorn with a small smile. "He did keep practising."

"Aye," said Legolas. He sighed. "I am glad, _mellon-nin_. He has grown up, I believe, and I am glad to see it. The trainer tells me he works hard, all the time, and is almost too stubborn when it comes to learning new techniques and training. And if I had not ridden out for a few days three years ago, he would never be here." He chuckled. "Though I suppose you would have preferred it if I had never left on my own."

Aragorn sighed. "It has been so long since we first met, _mellon-nin_, that now I just try to go along with it all and patch you up when I find you."

Legolas laughed softly, and in the yard Telan turned his head towards them. His eyes widened when he made the two friends out, standing on the edge of the yard, and he half bowed, inclining his head towards them. Legolas and Aragorn both nodded back, and they smiled as Telan turned back to listen to his training master.

"I forgot, you know," said Legolas softly as they watched. "I forgot all too easily."

"Forgot what, _mellon-nin_?" asked Aragorn as he leant against the wall beside the elf.

"I had stopped believing in the old tales many, many years ago," said Legolas softly. "I knew they were wrong, or at least missed parts out, and so I stopped believing in them, because for me, there was no point. They could not help me win a battle. But I forgot that there was still something in them. Telan found something in those tales, I believe, and it got him here. I forgot about that."

"It is odd, is it not?" asked Aragorn softly. "And aye, I know what you mean. But I was thinking of something else. Telan went for three years thinking that we were simply a man and an elf. He had no idea who we really were. He just thought we were friends."

Legolas' voice was soft as he answered, his gaze steady on the training yard. "Maybe he wasn't so far off."

Aragorn chuckled. "Elves can never say what they want to say out straight, can they? My brothers were the same as I was growing up," he said. "But aye, you are right. You are right." He trailed off and fell silent. Even without looking at Legolas by his side, he could tell that the elf was there, and that Legolas was thinking. Aragorn could even hazard a guess at what he was thinking about, because it was also crossing his mind. All the times that he or Legolas had been together, all the times that one or both of them had been hurt or afraid or despairing, and the countless times when they had picked each other up and leant on each other as they walked forwards. It was like the pages of a book, snapshots of their long, long friendship flicking through his mind. He did not doubt the same book was open in Legolas' mind.

The amount of times the ending of that book had nearly been written almost made Aragorn shudder with dread. So many times, he had thought that this was it, that the last page had been written, and then the book would be closed. And he thanked the Valar that, although the book would be finished eventually, it had not ended on that night three years ago. It had not ended yet.

Eventually the silence was broken. "We should go," said Legolas softly. "Arwen was planning on having a large breakfast for all of us, now her brothers are in the city."

"Aye," said Aragorn with a chuckle. "She will have my head if we are late. And then my brothers will have yours for making me late." He turned away from the courtyard and slipped down a side alleyway, heading up towards the citadel. Legolas, with one last glance at where Telan was training, turned and followed him.

A little while later Telan looked up to see the two shadows absent from the side of the yard. The two friends had left. Telan smiled slightly, remembering those few days all those years ago. He picked up his sword from where it had been knocked out of his hand. With a smile on his face, he raised it up and swung it. It met with a clash against another sword, and Telan began to train once more.

_The End._

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_A preview of my next (as for now untitled) story:_

Estel grinned again as the two horses thundered down the track. He glanced behind him briefly, but could no longer see either of his brothers. It didn't matter though. He knew the way to the clearing, and this track only took you there. His brothers may have taken the other path to get there. It would be quicker for them, but then they were not racing a certain blond elf who was currently in front of him. Estel turned his mind back to the race and urged his horse on again. His horse was elvish, a large stallion, still young enough, yet fit enough to keep running for a long time.

Legolas risked a glance back as he heard the hooves behind him quicken, and saw Estel drawing near again. He grinned at the young man, and turned his gaze back to the track in front of him. The grin vanished from his face as he saw, just in front of them, an area covered in dead leaves. To the side, something that looked suspiciously like a thin rope snaked out from underneath the leaves.

It was too late, though. Legolas barely had time to sit up before his horse charged straight into the trap. A noose tightened around his horse's leg and suddenly Legolas felt his stallion fall beneath him, his horse crying out in a noise that sounded eerily like a screaming child as his leg snapped. Behind him, Estel's horse threw its head up and skidded to a halt, but Legolas' stallion had never had the chance. With the rope tight around its leg, it fell down, flipping over itself and crashing down on the track floor. A sickening crack echoed through the woods.

It sounded clichéd to Estel, but it literally happened to fast for him to make sense of it all. At one moment Legolas was galloping ahead in front of him. The next moment, his horse screamed out loud and fell down, crashing to the floor. Legolas disappeared underneath his screaming horse...


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